


City of Shadows

by CombatEngineer



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Collars, F/M, Not a Happy Story, Wilde Times, Zistopia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CombatEngineer/pseuds/CombatEngineer
Summary: The city of Zootopia is warped and twisted. A merciless city that crushes dreams, with collared predators abhorred by the likes of prey. As the city's darkness destroys everything around him, a single fox continues to dream. But in the city of shadows, dreams can be dangerous.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was wrote by Anon8043 and was originally posted on fanfiction.net. It has since been taken down. I claim absolutely no credit for this amazing story and I am posting it to AO3 with full permission from the author. He is also currently working on another story called Quid Pro Quo and I highly recommend everyone to go check it out on FF.

The wind howled through the biting cold steel and stone that comprised of Tundratown. Its pointed architecture jutted out like teeth only to be emphasized by the myriad of icicles and sloping piles of snow. Neon signs reflected off of the frozen ground and muddied slush piles lined with tire tracks. The unlit street lights spaced out, sticking out of the exterior of the sharp buildings. Their bulbs had long since been abandoned, no light had radiated out of them for some time. Silhouettes of movement played like shadow puppets against the shielded glowing windows. Burning like fires against cold mountains. The street was narrow. The buildings towered over the small passage running like a river through a canyon. The red bricks of the street looked blue in the quiet resignation of the moonlight. The passage gave the impression of being stuck in the middle of a glacier, carefully navigating the angular cuts in the maze of ice. A claustrophobic ambiance showered down on the path from the open sky. It was like the entire district was something else at night. Something more primal. Haunted. No other district gave the feeling of being so dead. It was a constant battle to supply life to the lifeless towers of ice and snow. The cold made sure of that. One thing could be said about this neighborhood; Nick did not like it.

He shifted the weight of the model set under his left arm and grabbed at his coat pocket, fishing for a discarded carton of cigarettes. Bringing the small box up to his maws, his vision trailed to the faint green glow reflecting off of the thin plastic lining of paper box. A reminder of why he was out in this dreadful situation in the first place. Careful not to damage the filter, he bit into a lone cigarette standing out of the box and dragged it out as he lowered his hand to replace the carton with a lighter. The sparks flew out of the metal top, but the flame could not hold onto life with the full force of the wind at its back. Nick stopped and turned his back to the wind, hunching over to provide a much needed respite from the ceaseless cold air. The warm smoke filled his lungs as the green glow was replaced with a warmth of the tobacco igniting inches from his nose. The smell immediately filled his nostrils and he took a very long drag off of the burning fibers as he straightened out his back. Looking towards the sky with his eyes closed. Taking in the moment. Still gripping the cigarette with his teeth, he parted his lips and blew a dense cloud of smoke and frozen breath out into the night air, only to be dragged away in a hurried motion by the strong wind. Nick lifted the lids of his eyes only slightly to see the thin sliver of black spotted with dim stars framed by towering walls of ice and incandescent windows.

Nick wondered if it was his pitch. Maybe people weren't as hateful as he thought, maybe he just did a very bad job at explaining his plan. Either way, he would bet it didn't help that every first impression was framed by this damned collar. Pulling his eyes from the tranquil skyline and back onto the path he was traveling, he began grabbing at another pocket. This time bringing a small paper card up to his face. The mixture of orange and green light reflected off of the small parchment revealing its professional nature. It was a business card for a small fish dispensary not far from where he was now. Flipping over the card, it was obvious it was an invitation. The caption “11:30PM SHARP” was written in ebony ink across the back covering more information about the small place of business. The polar bear he had gotten it from was one of the more educated members of the cabal he was venturing to go see now. He did not have a high opinion of most of them, but at least Koslov had an eye for more than just brute strength. To double check the address, Nick flipped the card over again and then went to put it back into his back pocket. Down the dark, angular alleyway to the left of him was his destination. It was even more narrow than the street that bled into it. It only stretched out 30 feet and came to an end at a bricked wall only reaching a couple yards into the air. It felt more claustrophobic than the path that preceded it as more buildings stretched upwards behind the brick wall, making it look more like a back entrance than the front. A small neon sign stood out at the back of the alley hanging off the brick. “Mamma's Discount Fish” read out in a swirling font flanked by a simple polar bear shape whose arm holding a fish by the tail blinked from one position to another taller one.

The door was unusually sturdy. Made out of solid metal, it looked more like the entrance to a bunker than it did a fish market. Nick supposed it was more indicative of its true nature than anything else. A hollow front for the Tundratown mafia. Not one of its more well-known fronts, but a front all-the-same. Before he even had a chance to think about whether he even wanted to do this, a metal sheet screeched out of the way up near the top of the door. Two burning dark eyes looked suspiciously down at Nick and waited. Nick stared back at them, not sure what to say. Suspicion grew into a quiet hatred in the eyes regarding him. “Put that shit out,” a gruff, thickly accented voice bellowed down at him. “Koslov does not want that in here.” Nick eyed the dark circles, and after a long pause took one last drag from the cigarette. He turned his head back to the street he had come from and blew the remaining smoke that was in his lungs out into the cold air. Flicking the cigarette in the same direction, he turned back to the door expectantly. The eyes hesitated a moment, as if to take one last opportunity to beam hatred through the small metal slot. It slammed in a swift motion. The locks and bolts securing the door began giving way at the behest of the mammal behind it. After a short stint of silence accompanied by the ever-present howling of the wind, the door screamed into motion, the metal scraping itself in a painful way. The polar bear that was up until this point just a pair of eyes looked down at the fox again. This time his whole face reflected his opinion. A nasty scowl melted down off of his features and his eyes were set back into his skull, almost comically small for his body. He wore cloths you would expect from any working bear in Tundratown. Thick pants stopping at heavy looking boots made for mammals with long claws. A jacket worn out of convenience more than actual need, it wasn't buttoned up all of the way and hung off of his broad frame like it threaten to fall off. The green light of his color was the only thing producing an ounce of personality off of him, which made Nick chuckle inwardly at the absurdity of that statement. “This way,” the bear deadpanned at the small figure standing out in the cold, he motioned disinterestedly with one arm for the fox to step through.

Nick entered the establishment, and thought about how it almost looked like an actual fish market. Almost. The display stands of fish and seafood stood tall, and it gave the impression that it really was just there to display fish. Most people knew better. The storefront was illuminated with a dull blue color, adding to the feeling of it being as cold in here as it was outside. The square room was less arranged in a cosmetic fashion, and more in a strategic one. Nick knew that the stands that were covered in thin metal sheet were really full of sand bags to stop bullets. He knew that there was a gun in every icebox, and underneath most ice beds currently covered in fish. The walls gave the impression of being made of a sturdy wood, but it was really a collection of false hiding spots and fake sections that could open up like doors. The ornate walls covered in fishing equipment and paraphernalia hid security cameras and holes that would open up so they could shoot out of them. Opposite from the entrance behind the counter was another dissatisfied polar bear like the last. There was no doubt that one of his clawed mitts was currently fondling a shotgun. He really should have thought about turning back before this, but it would have likely had the same outcome or worse. When the leader of the mob accepts a meeting about a business opportunity, you really shouldn't just not show up.

“Through that door, fox. Do not keep him waiting.” The very low yet very loud voice struck him from behind, he made a point of continuing like he had not noticed how fucked he was. The polar bear was talking about the door just to the left behind the counter. He made his way through making sure he did not confirm his theory about a shotgun as the bear behind the register stared daggers into his back. The door leading into the back room was significantly less defensible than the front, but it was clear is was strong and sturdy just the same. The sight that greeted him was not something he ever wanted to see. It was a dark rectangular room with a single fan quietly running on the ceiling of the back wall. Two doors on the left wall led further into the establishment. What was behind them was illegal. What kind of illegal, Nick may never know. A long table stretched out from the front of the room towards the back. A single giant polar bear sat at the end of that table. His expensive suit wrinkled by his elbows resting in front of him, his paws and massive claws coming together in a menacing way. Dark circles around his eyes accentuated by the casted shadows made him look even more dangerous. He was flanked by a number of other bears, all wearing a mixture of expensive formal wear and grimy labor cloths. You could tell he was taller than the rest despite the fact that he was the only one sitting down. All of their eyes were masked in shadow, the only discernible expression being mutual contempt. The radiating green lights from their collars stood as the only thing moving in the room. Nick's friend from the door pushed him all the way in and stepped through the barrier behind him. The sound of the door shutting and the light disappearing behind the waning exit was probably more symbolic than Nick would have liked.

“Sit down, Nicholas.” The giant polar bear spoke to him in the heaviest accent yet. It was most assuredly Koslov. The most ruthless and feared crime boss in all of Tundratown, and arguably Zootopia. While there might have been others, none had the reputation of personally taking part in some of the more “cut-throat” activities. Sometimes being very literal. Not wanting to upset the careful peace that currently lay on the room, he took his seat opposite of Koslov. “I understand you have a business opportunity for me, I would hope that it is as exciting as my assistant was led to believe.”

Nick lost his tongue. He thought about his words carefully. Koslov looked patient enough, but he did not want to test that hypothesis. Like most hypotheses about this place. “Well, Mr. Koslov, sir, I was actually here-” He fumbled with the model still cozily stuck under his left arm and put it on the table. “Uh, I was here to ask for a loan.” A pause, his face tight and wide-eyed. “For my amusement park.” He willed himself to calm down, but all that came to mind was the brutal failure of the past couple months. He thought about all of the banks and lending firms that rejected him. All the mammals that didn't even bother to wait for him to leave the building to laugh at him. All the knowing smirks and muffled bemusement. Nick sighed. He was done feeling nervous about this. This was his final chance to make this work. “Well, that's just the thing.” Nick breathed as he stared at his model with lidded eyes. “It's a park for predators, by predators. For the longest time I've just wanted a place where our kind can feel free, and I've got everything I need for it. I've got the location. I've got the staff. I've got all of the rides and construction lined up. I've accounted for almost everything except how I'm going to get the money to pay for it. None of the banks would trust a fox enough to lend a couple dollars to, let alone a loan of this size.” Nick lifted his arm toward the small model and flipped a switch on the back, prompting all of the polar bear's collars to flash a bright shade of yellow and reached for guns and knives in surprise. The small display lit up with flashing lights and tiny roller-coasters to swirl around the model. Nick closed his eyes and tensed. Koslov didn't flinch. After several moments, they relaxed and returned to their positions their collars returning to its normal color. Several moments of silence went by before Nick opened his eyes and looked up at Koslov, who had not moved an inch since he entered the room. “I can't make this happen without you.” Another pause. “So what do you say, will you make this happen?”

Koslov shifted in his seat and stuck his hand into his suit, pulling out something and slamming it onto the table. He pushed it across the cold, flat metal surface all the way across the room until it came to a stop right in front of Nick. It was a collection of $10,000 bands held together by packing tape. His eyes lit up and he grabbed the stack looking back up across the table. “It has to be said, fox, that this idea is not new.” Koslov's dark eyes setting into a stare that could put a fire out. “There has always been people like you who have wanted a place for predators, but as you can see,” he gestured behind him at his assortment of muscle. “It is not an easy thing to make. It's hard. And it always winds up hurting people.” He slowly rose up from his chair and made his way around the table towards Nick. “I do not know you, Nicholas. I do not know if you can handle the pain that is made from carving out a piece for yourself.” He sat on the table sideways next to Nick and stared down at him. “We all know what it is like to be a predator in this city, but most of us resign ourselves to subservience.” He scowled at the thought. “The ones that don't. Mammals like me and my friends. We take our power from the prey that thinks themselves better than us. And when they presume to control us, you can be sure what it is that happens to them.” He straightened his back and looked at one of the doors that led deeper into the store. “My son is not old enough yet to know what it is like to live with a collar on your neck. But he soon will be. He will know the oppression that the prey thinks they are getting away with. But we know the truth, you and I.” He trailed off and smoothly glanced back at Nick. “This park for predators is a good idea.” Going on without clarifying what the truth actually is, “A good idea to make money, which is what I want from you. This will never change anything. It will only remind them what they are missing. But I do not care. So long as you are making me money, how free those who willingly subjugate themselves outside your park will feel is no concern of mine.” This time a menacing expression began to take hold and he lowered himself towards Nick looking into his eyes deeply. “But if you miss one payment. One drop. If I call your fucking phone and you do not pick up. If you ever give me a reason to think you are not making me money anymore...”

Koslov kicked the door to his right while he was still sitting on the table open. It swung on its hinges until the wall on the other side stopped it. Nick tore his vision from the burning bear eyes coming down on him and into the room. It was another square room, but it looked colder. Ice bags stacked against the walls. Shipping crates from some unseen receiving bay lay haphazardly stacked on each other near the back. Two polar bears stood in stiff fashion staring back at Nick with harsh expressions emphasized by shadowed features. And in the middle of the room, a chain hung from the ceiling leading almost all the way down to the floor. Attached to the end of that chain, was a broken figure. A beep could be heard as the light around Nick's collar turned yellow, though he did not notice. It was a snow leopard. A spotlight shown down on his bloodied body suspended limply by a chain wrapped around his wrists. His spotted white fur had been sullen in shades of grey and brown, coated in filth from an unknowable amount of time living as Koslov’s prisoner. Deep crimson stains blotched his fur, the skin beneath the parts that weren’t covered in blood discolored by chaotic patterns. He was not moving. A chair was thrown across the room and now lay in a discarded position. Blood pooled around his legs and flowed towards a drain set into the floor. The collar around his neck flashed green. Indicating it was not being worn by anyone. “Do you know what is the worst part?” Roused by the voice, Nick turned his head up to look at Koslov who was now looking at the tortured mammal. “The worst part is that no one is going to come looking for him.” He paused a moment before looking once again down at Nick. “Do you know why?” He waited for a response he knew wasn't going to come and leaned in at Nick again, this time reaching up to grab the metal device attached to Nick's collar. Koslov's expression darkened and his voice lost all sense of emotion, “It's because he is wearing one of these...”

The electricity rippled through Nick's body as the light flashed red. It paralyzed his thoughts in sheer pain as his limbs locked up and his vision was blocked by a blinding light. In his desperation to make the pain stop he flailed out at the table and knocked his model off over the edge. It came onto the ground and broke into several pieces with a painful crack, the light blinking for a moment before dying. By the time Nick could regain his composure, Koslov was already closing the door into the torture room and turning back to look at him.

“Do not worry, Nicholas. I know you will not disappoint me like he did.” Bending down to pick up his broken display, he pushed it back into Nick's hands who was still wearing a terrified expression. “And do not worry about payment. When the time is right, I will be around to collect.” Koslov nodded to the polar bear that was standing behind Nick the whole time who immediately grabbed him by his arms just below his shoulders, and lifted him up into the air in front of his boss. Koslov retrieved the large denomination of cash from the table and slipped into Nick's jacket pocket. “Do hope you are ready when I do.” With that, the other polar bear carried him quickly out of the back room, straight through the fish market, out the front door, and pushed him out into the cold night in a blur. He barely had enough time to regain his footing before the door slammed on his back.

Taking a moment to process everything he had just seen, Nick slowly turned back towards the metal door. Bathed in the light of the pale moon and the flashing neon sign to his left, Nick waited. The howling night air greeted him like he had never left. The angular buildings had not moved since he was gone. A moment passed without thinking. Another moment. Nick turned towards the alley entrance. The cold bricked street calling for him to go home. To try and forget what he had just seen. His heart rate slowed as he controlled his breathing, allowing the collar to resign its yellow color for a safe green glow. He made his way from Mamma's Discount Fish and towards the path he followed down here. The frozen bricks and haunting lights again marked his path. Sharp teeth with hundreds of incandescent stages still spread upwards to a black sky. The shadow puppets still dancing on display, but this time Nick got the impression they were laughing at him.

He carefully shifted the broken model in his arms and proceeded to light another cigarette. Taking a long drag, he moved to grab his cell phone. Nick dialed the first person he could think of. Finnick. He brought the bright screen up to his face, and waited. The ringer went on for some time. Nick's mind wandered again into the dark place he had just been. His dream was coming true, but what had he just given up to make it that way? “Hello?” The noise startled him, but it was definitely Finnick's low tone. Unusually low for his size, even. He did not sound tired, so Nick was confident that he had not just woke him up despite the time of night.

Talking through his cigarette, he replied. “Hey, man.” Nick tried his best to sound calm. To sound like a man who just heard his dream was coming true. His voice betrayed him, though. Catching in his throat, he sounded more like he had just heard a relative had passed away.

“Nick! How did it go? Did you meet Koslov?” Finnick's voice was calculated. He knew Nick has seen Koslov, it was almost a pointless question if it wasn't for the underlying tone.

“Yeah, I met with him.” Nick hesitated for a moment smoke trailing behind him as he moved through the street, not sure what to say. “I got the loan.”

“That's great! What's the catch?”

He looked around even though he knew that if someone was listening, he wouldn't be able to see them. You could never be sure you weren't being followed in Tundratown. Another reason to hate it here. “Let's talk about it in person.” Nick paused to think about what to say next. “Hey, why don't you get all the guys together and meet me at the site and we can celebrate?”

“Alright.” Finnick sounded disinterested, though it was more likely he was just thinking about all the possible things that could have gone wrong. “Do you want me to bring something to drink, too?”

Sometime during the conversation Nick had calmed down considerably. He wasn’t sure if it was the nicotine or his close friend, but he was glad for both of them. It was refreshing speaking with someone who Nick knew didn't have it out to get him. He did not possess a lot of friends, but the one's he had were always incredibly loyal. It almost felt like he didn't just see the dead body of some tortured soul hanging like a doll from the rafters. Almost. His light blinked yellow again. “Of course, buddy.” This time, it was painfully obvious he was trying to remain calm. “What kind of celebration would it be if there was nothing to drink? I'll see you there.”

“Yeah.” Finnick replied, anxious to ask what had happened in there.

Nick ended the phone call and regarded his sorry cellular device. A burner. He couldn't afford a real phone, or a data plan to run it, so he just kept on using prepaid pieces of shit like this. It was a dark blue flip-phone with a low resolution screen on the outside displaying the time. 12:03pm. The train would be arriving soon. He had to hurry if he was going to make it. He never had much money, and now he was walking around with a stack of bills so large it pulled his whole jacket down.

Defeated, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and trudged through the cold night back the way of the train station. He was headed south. The train would take him back through the Rainforest district and down towards the industrial part of Zootopia. Colloquially known as “the Docks” even though most of it had turned residential after the city's industry fell apart. The financial district of Downtown had taken over far before Nick had been around. He used to hear his father talk about the factories that he would work for during the summers. Most of them lay in disrepair if they weren't demolished completely to make room for residential blocks. One such factory was “the site” he had mentioned. An old fish packing facility underneath the suspension bridge above the river separating the Docks from the Rainforest district. His father worked there during his last summer as a young adult. Before he had met Nick's mother while he was studying at college. They would go there sometimes. When Nick was a child. They would go fishing on the decrepit wooden loading docks that bordered the facility's river access. The old building had long since been reclaimed by nature and mold since those times.

Nick skulked around the edge of the subterranean station waiting for the 12:15. The frozen aesthetic of the rectangular stop exaggerated by the florescent lights. Tiled pillars supporting the roof had slopes of snow hanging off of their frames. Benches lined the back wall with stairway entrances at either side. He did not bother trying to get into the newer cars near the front, even though the station was barely occupied by waiting travelers. He knew he would not be welcome there, and he did not feel like braving the distasteful stares from the other passengers. Instead he preferred the peace of mind that can only come from an empty subway car. The train did not take long to arrive, having little delays this late at night. The cold wind from the dark tunnels reaching outward in both direction was pushed into Nick's small frame as the train came barreling through, Nick taking this time to take one more drag off of the nearly completed stick. The sound of screaming metal filled his ears as it slowed, the familiar rhythm of train cars bouncing on breaks in the tracks slowed their regularity as it came to a complete stop. An electronic hum met the doors as they opened up and a tone played over the station loudspeakers, prompting Nick to toss the cigarette onto the ground and step on it as he entered the car at the same pace as all of the other waiting mammals.

Settling sideways into one of the over-sized seats looking towards the front of the train, Nick leaned his head into the window. He set his sorry model out on the seat, and looked out into the darkness of the tunnel. Another tone played over the speakers while the doors began to shut. Slowly, the train began to move. Heavy at first, it gathered the momentum it needed to propel itself across the metal tracks and down through the dark. Dim lights passed the outside in an even fashion, skipping the occasional one.

It was a wonder if it would ever change. This city. This nation. This planet. The whole world took to a dreadful disposition like it was natural. Maybe that’s just the way it was meant to be. People living in fear of each other. Never straying from what they thought was a safe life. Nick thought it would be nice to meet someone who wasn’t like that. Someone who spat in the face of the system that we’ve made. ‘What an inspiration that would be’, he thought to himself sarcastically. Maybe he was just bitter but he figured if he ever met someone like that, they wouldn’t like him. A person that could fight so hard against the grain and still come out the other end was probably not the kind of person that would like Nick. He had spent so much time just wallowing in being nothing more than what people expected him to be. A scumbag. A hustler. Nothing but a common criminal. It just turned out that they were right when they thought that of him. Maybe he was just nothing but a fox.

The rhythm of the light on the outside of the train moving in and out of his vision put Nick into a trance. He thought about all of the things that had happened. About the doctor's visit that had caused all of this madness. He wasn't sure if that doctor knew what he was doing when he removed Nick's collar for the first time. Before he could stop himself, he drifted. Drifted into a deep sleep. He was far too exhausted to fight the feeling all the way through the journey, and even if he wasn't, he did not have the time to even realize that he had to fight it.

=====================================================================

Nick's eye ached. His swollen coat hid a purple hue developed under his sandy orange fur. He was sitting in a waiting room. The rows of plastic green chairs filled with random assortments of mammals. All of them were roughly Nick's size, as this clinic catered to the smaller statured animals of Zootopia, but not as small as the assortment of rodents. Fluorescent light buzzed overhead in the square room. Two doors leading out of the dreadful place. One leading back out onto the overgrown streets of the Docks, while the other was sturdier. It had an electronic lock that held the door in place which had to be buzzed for doctors and patients alike. The security was so strong because of what happened behind the door. It was one of the only clinics in the whole Docks area that had the license to remove predator collars for check-ups. That came with a lot of regulations, including almost nuclear like security for the scanner gun that actually authenticated the removal. A police officer also had residence in the clinic, usually patrolling the halls in the back peering into the examination rooms for the predators. He did come out and watch the mammals in the waiting room too, but it was usually just to have an excuse to talk to the female doe sat behind a bulletproof reception booth.

She had taken Nick's information almost 2 hours ago, yet he had still not been called. His bruised body ached at the thought that he would have to wait any longer. The mood had already soured for Nick some time before being trapped in this fake looking hellhole. It started several days before when he was stopped by two police officers. A ram and a hippopotamus. They had stopped him on some bullshit pretext that he was acting suspicious and searched him. When they pulled out a dime of coke from Nick's back pocket, much to Nick's own surprise, they laughed to themselves. They explained that they didn't want to bring him down to the station for something so small, even though they weren't even denying the fact that they had planted it on him themselves. It was common knowledge that there were no predator coke dealers. That was a prey drug. All uppers were, as they were the only ones that could afford to get excited. Uppers were a dangerous thing in pred communities. It made it exceeding more likely for you to get hit by your collar. All of the upper dealers that Nick knew of were either prey or preds that deal in prey neighborhoods. Which is why you wouldn’t find any dealers like that down here. The Docks was not a prey neighborhood. Nick could see where it was going, and opted not to take his chances. They were after names of potential dealers, despite the fact that Nick wasn't that familiar with any of them. He knew everyone in this city, but made a point of not being too familiar with some of the more unsavory mammals that chose to call Zootopia their home. If he didn't give them names, he would have definitely been take to the station. He bolted. A bad idea fueled by a bad situation, no doubt, but that didn't change the fact that it was a bad idea. It was some time before rain droplets woke him up in a dumpster with the shit kicked out of him. It had started pouring just a couple minutes after that.

Barely able to walk, Nick found his way back to the room he was renting in the basement of a law firm. The pipe's chaotic pattern on the ceiling made Nick dizzier than he already was on his way to the bathroom. The ice cold water did little to help his mood, though he was just glad he didn’t wake up in a cell. He could only assume they didn’t want to deal with the paperwork, and moved onto some other unlucky predator as soon as they were done with him. The cold shower was painful, but it got the job done. That morning he made an appointment for a clinic because of how his neck felt. They took x-rays and wrote him a referral to this one. They suggested having an examination without his collar off and sent the x-ray results out. Now he was here. In an uncomfortable seat crammed together with a bunch of other mammals, mostly predators, who all varied in the severity of their illnesses. Zootopia was rotten to the core. Still, he counted his blessings that he was not in lockup right now. It could always get worse. Though, he probably should refrain from thinking that. It usually had a habit of inviting trouble. Nick's ears perked up as the door was buzzed open, but was disappointed to see it was just the cop walking through again. He was tall and slender for a Zebra. His uniform fit closely to his body. His cloths were immaculately pressed and the badge that clung to his left breast was polished to a mirror shine. Along his waist was a utility belt of formidable size including several different sizes of handcuffs, radios of different variety, and on his right hip hung a gun.

Nick pulled his eyes from the officer and looked around the room again. The florescent light reflected off the faintly green walls in a sickly way. They were covered in posters and awards of different sizes and subjects, but they all have to do with medicine in one way or another. The door leading out into the street had a window in it, and Nick could occasionally see different mammals walk past. The coffee table in front of him did little to sate his restless temperament. Magazines about cars and clothes and expensive furniture. All things he could not afford. Nick could not tell what the cop and doe were talking about, but the sound was still irritating to his ears. The door buzzed again, and a professional looking beaver stepped out of the opening staring intensely at her clipboard. Looking up, she called out “Nicholas Wilde?”

Nick's ears shot up and he made a point of getting off the chair slowly, even though he felt like he was in a rush. He did not want to irritate the sore tissue anywhere on his body. Walking towards the disinterested beaver, she beckoned him through the door that stood to the left of the reception booth. The hallway was more plain than the waiting room. Seven doors. The small office to his right where the clerk who took his information was sat in an open area attached to the hallway. Her desk wasn't nearly as cluttered as you would assume with so many people waiting. It was spotless, actually. Probably why she had so much free time to talk to the police officer. The first door on his left was the resident office of the practitioner. 'Dr. Giuseppe Amado' was embossed into a bronze plate attached to the upper portion of the door. The hallway had 3 doors on each side, and came to an end at a divot into the drywall that housed two water fountains. Florescent lights and sheetrock tiles alternated down the roof of the surprisingly dim path. The floor was made out of rubber tiles painted a grainy ivory. “Please, the third door on your left, Mr. Wilde.” The beaver spoke behind him. “Room 3.”

Nick made his way past Dr. Amado’s office, then the second door on his left marked 'Room 1', and finally to Room 3. All of the odd rooms were on the left side of the hall, and the evens on the right. He made no effort to hesitate, and just swung the door open and entered at his own pace. Nick didn't have to worry about our boy in blue, he was busy with other things. Walking straight to the examination chair, he turned around and hoisted himself up watching the beaver with an expectant glare.

“Okay, Mr. Wilde. I'm going to need to enter some things in the computer before the doctor will come in, so if you'd sit there and wait for me to get that ready, that'd be great.” Nick had a feeling that wasn't a request. She sat down at the desk housing all of the general medical supplies on a black stool, and began typing away at a criminally outdated computer. It looked like every other examination room he had ever been in. A plain desk with different drawers and cabinets, a plastic chair for anyone who was with you, a small trash can, the wall mounted otoscope holder, the examination chair itself. It made Nick think they all shopped at the same store. “Alright, Mr. Wilde. Full name?”

Nick laughed inwardly at the statement. 'Full name'. Like it wasn't even a question, just a phrase that demanded a response. Like 'sit' or 'roll over'. “Nicholas Piberius Wilde,” he said with little feeling behind his words.

“Occupation?”

“Freelancer.” That comment prompted the beaver to look over her shoulder suspiciously before returning her eyes to the screen.

“Do you have any prior medical history we need to be aware of?”

Nick sighed. “No.” The questions kept coming. All of them more boring than the last. It had seemed to Nick that he had already answered all of these stupid questions on the forum he had to fill out when he got here. It made him wonder why they didn't just read off that. As the beaver continued on with her list of questions, Nick stuck his hand under the nylon weave of his collar, feeling the bruised area. Pain shot throughout his body when he applied pressure to the most damaged part of his neck, and he let out a low whine. He couldn't turn it more than a couple inches it hurt so bad. After she was done with her pointless questions, she spun the stool around to face the fox. “If you'll wait right there, the doctor will be in to see you in a moment.” She threw herself off of the stool and walked out the door, leaving it open. Returning, she tossed Nick a hospital gown. “Get changed.” With that she closed the door and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Nick looked down at the measly piece of fabric. 'Get changed?' He thought to himself. 'What am I supposed to get changed into? I know she doesn't mean this bed sheet.' He frowned. He did not want to strip his clothes when that fucking cop was out there. He'd rather leave his neck broken. Fuming, he thought that it was probably for the best to at least get his shirt off. Fumbling with the buttons, unable to look at them because he couldn't angle his neck downward, he started undressing. Nick stuck a finger between his collar and his tie, and pulled the knot downward so that it would untangle and fall into his lap. Pulling his shirt off without bending any joints more than they needed to, Nick painfully slipped free revealing his discolored torso. Spotted with bruises underneath his thick coat and blood stains that he didn't bother worrying about, he slid his arms through the sleeves of the gown and threw it up onto his shoulders. Nick didn't bother tying the back. It would have been far too much effort and pain for something so small. Now all that was left to do was wait.

And Nick did wait. It was some time before even the Beaver peered back into the room to make sure Nick wasn't doing anything shifty. She came and went without even saying anything. To him, it was all a waste. He had very little time to scrounge together this month's rent, and the extra cost of these appointments was setting the budget back several weeks. If he had his choice, he would have just gone on with his bad life and ignored the whole thing. The appointment was mostly made because of the swelling around his neck, which was irritated by the nylon collar. Now that the swelling had subsided, he really should have just walked.

The door clicked and was swung open in a deliberate way, revealing the bulky armadillo whose shell threatened to burst out the back of his white coat. He was older and had a small pair of glasses hanging onto his long snout precariously. “Hello, Mr. Wilde,” he said in a thick accent without looking at his patient. “My name is Dr. Amado; I am here to take a look at that neck of yours.” He threw a folder filled with paperwork onto the desk, and swung a large plastic suitcase on top of it. It was a dark gray matte texture and looked very tough. Nick thought it looked like one of those cases that you would see in movies and on TV. The one's that usually held all assortments of deadly weapons and items in thick foam cushioning tailored to the exact shape of whatever objects that lie inside. No doubt protecting the scanner that he would use to unlock Nick's collar. He pulled some black pieces of paper out of the file, holding the case in place so it wouldn't follow the friction.

The armadillo turned towards Nick with a look of boredom stretch across his narrow features. “Tell me, Mr. Wilde. Have you ever had you collar removed before?” His eyes searching up and down Nick's frame with copies of his x-rays in one hand.

“No, I haven't.” He replied without having to think about the question.

“I see,” the armored mammal trailed off, his tone thick with thought. “Well, as a precautionary measure, I am going to have to change my attire for the initial removal.” Picking up on Nick's inquisitive look, he continued. “All first time removals have to follow a certain procedure, you understand. I am going to have to wear some thick protection, for both of our safety.”

Nick thought that was funny. 'Both of our safety' did not line up with what he was catching onto the 'procedure' actually was. The small mammal was telling him that he was going to be wearing body armor. Something Nick was aware of from stories he had heard from his friends visiting clinics like this. It looked more like heavy SWAT armor, specifically from some bomb disposal unit. The Beaver had brought it in when he called out into the hall with some non-distinct orders. She wheeled it in on a repurposed hotel luggage cart, the suit itself obviously being too heavy for any of the employees to want to lug it around with any regularity. He suited up quickly enough, seeing as how he had probably done it more times than he cared to remember.

Moving the goggles into place, the doctor turned his attention back to the plastic case sitting idly on the desk. He pulled at the lanyard that hung around his neck until the plastic card attached to the end was comfortably in his gloved hands. The armadillo wasted no time in sticking the plastic card into a horizontal slot that Nick had not even noticed. A green LED blinked on and the latches that held the briefcase together popped open. Retrieving the scanning device nestled into thick foam, he turned back to Nick. “Alright, Mr. Wilde. Please remain seated for this part and don't make any sudden movements.” The doctor slid his hand under the desk and clicked some unseen switch. A light attached to the wall next to the door came on with a crimson glow. They sat in silence for a moment. Each of them expecting something to happen, but what that was Nick could not tell. After a moment passed, the door clicked open again, but this time the police officer walked through. Closing the door behind him, the zebra settled into the corner of the room. Bringing his right hoof up to the holster that carried his service firearm. He snapped the holster open and rested his hand on the metal grip of the gun.

“Do not worry, Mr. Wilde, it is strictly procedure.” Nick pulled his eyes away from the sight of the cop and back at the doctor covered head-to-toe in body armor. The doctor was moving closer to him now, scanner in hand. The atmosphere tensed. He could see that the zebra did not have the same malicious intent as the last officers he had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. Most likely a new recruit given the bum detail of babysitting a second-rate clinic. Though he did not want to push the envelope regardless.

The armadillo pointed the scanner directly at the green light that radiated off of the device that housed the 'shock' of the shock collar. After a long moment and a steadily increasing tension, the device blinked a dark blue color and fell off of Nick's neck. The doctor recoiled in anticipation. The police officer stayed steady, not in any immediate danger even if he did lunge at the doctor. Silence. Nick's brow furrowed at the absurdity of the situation. They really thought that he was just a dangerous maniac. His mind could not focus on his distaste, however. He slowly wandered to the new feeling stretching through his body from his neck.

He felt lighter. Like he had just lost something that had been dragging him down for a long time. Nick reached his hand up to his now free neck, and caressed it. Careful not to push on the bruised tissue, he scraped at his neck. Trailing his claws over an unbroken length of fur, his expression lightened. He had not been able to do that since his dad threw him his taming party when he was only 10. It was like he was back to a time before all of this. Back before he was painfully aware of the perception of his carnivorous kind. Back when he was happy. The doctor was saying something, but Nick wasn't listening. He was too busy drowning in the feeling. The feeling of freedom. Of being unchained. He imagined the wild. Musky forests and radiant fields of golden grass. The feeling of running. Not towards anything, or away from anything, but just running. Because he could, because that's what he was meant to do. Be free. He did not associate his freedom with hunting the prey of the world. The thought did not even cross his mind. It was unthinkable a modern mammal could even entertain the idea. It was murderous. Evil. But the feeling of being free from the chains around his neck for the first time in a long time. It was not evil. It was not murderous. It was just the thought of being seen without a sign around his neck that practically screamed “this is the only thing between me and eating you”.

He thought how the wind would feel in his coat around his neck. Without the collar, he imagined it to be a sensation long forgotten. His muscles pulling back and forth without the restricting feeling of the collar halting their movement. The thick nylon no longer bouncing on his fur in an uncomfortable way. The light never beeping yellow telling him how the collar perceived his elevated heart-rate as a threat. Making him slow down or stop at the risk of being shocked into an unintelligent panic. Nature always smelled different when you realized it wasn't something you could enjoy. It was bittersweet. Like looking at a park through prison bars. Nick had not run through the wild in a very, very long time. The closest thing you could get is gyms around Zootopia that allowed you to plug your collar into a treadmill so that it wouldn't shock you. He thought that maybe someday he could run free again. He doubted it.

The collar clicked around his neck. It yanked him out of his fantasies and back at the armadillo who was currently scribbling something onto a clipboard. It was crushing. Nick whined and looked desperately at the doctor who began to speak. “All done. It was just a bruise.”

He fumbled over his words in a hurry, “N- whoa, whoa, whoa.” Each 'whoa' being calmer and more drawn out. He swung his hands out towards Dr. Amado emphasizing his speech. “Can you just give me five more seconds of this?” He said feeling the tightness around his neck once again.

The doctor laughed, lifting off his goggles and replacing them on his helmet. “Unfortunately, no.” He trailed off, “but if I had a dollar for every time I heard that...”

“Yeah!” Nick retorted with pain seeping through his voice before giving way to a depressed tone. “You'd be the richest mammal in Zootopia.” He looked through his brow up at the zebra who was leaving the examination room, a dark mood creeping into his mind. The scene became clouded. Vaporizing into oily shadows. The look of hatred that melted into Nick's features was the last thing that could be seen before a loud crack opened up the sky.

=====================================================================

Nick woke to the booming sound, it's slow rumbling aftershock filling the train car with quiet reverberations. It was raining, the patting sound of thousands of drops of water hitting the metal roof occupied the rocking cabin. The sounds of the train moving forward on the tracks never skipping a beat. He looked out the window. It was a dense forest. The trees taller than any he had ever seen outside the district he was now barreling through.

Small houses and establishments cluttered the trunks and roots of the massive living structures. Billowing out the branches with long supports and sturdy roofs. Lights shown through the torrential downpour from the tiny buildings around the canopy and the bayou below. The catwalks that connected the giant trees and the houses nestles in them did little to improve the chaotic aesthetic of the Rainforest district. Below were the small river communities. Homes and docks built on stilts above the murky water. None of them connected to the little land around them. You could only access them by boat. A swamp patrol slowly made its way down the water. Blinking red and blue lights on its mast, monitoring the water and looking for signs of flooding.

He looked back inside the cabin of the moving train car. He was still alone. Nick knew he had passed two stops already, and was reaching the exterior of the Rainforest district. He could not believe he had it in him to sleep. Especially after what had just happened. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time and to see if he had missed any calls. 12:39am. He had been asleep for probably 20 minutes. Groaning to himself, he looked down at his broken model. He had taken it to every bank and lender in Zootopia. He was thrown out of more than a couple in a physical nature, yet the model had miraculously remained intact. Until now. He carefully tugged at the small sign that had been broken in half. Its top portion holding onto the piece by a few strands of unbroken wood. He maneuvered it around on the pivot and finally sat it back down how he found it. Nick sighed.

Jolting in his seat, he pawed the pocket contain the money. Only relaxing when he was confident it was still there. He did not dare to take it out. The many eyes of the city were always watching; you could be sure of that. One such eye was stationed at the front of the car looking back at the many seats that lined the edges. The lens could barely be seen behind the foggy black dome that bubbled out of the metal wall. Nick took a moment to scoff at it before turning his attention back outside the train.

The atmospheric augmentation machines stuck out of the water like smokestacks, the thick metal grates on the tops protecting the mechanisms below and beckoned the rising steam out. Their sides were covered in thick moss and grime, spreading a green sick up the side of the stainless steel. Sprinkler systems poured water down onto the communities below. Despite the fact that the mixture of the warm water from the pipes and the augmentation machine’s thick mist mixed to create dense fog cover and rainclouds that inevitably create natural precipitation around the district. Unlike Tundratown, the Rainforest district always felt alive. Even in pitch black rainstorms like this, it felt like it was breathing. Like all of the small settlements and homes worked together to keep the soggy trees and barges afloat. On cool mornings, the waterfront would be lined with fishermen trying their hands at catching food for their families. Nick was far from the more upstanding part of the district. He had slept through the modern homes and businesses that conquered the relentless water and wild trees with technology and willpower. The east side of the district being closest to downtown, and bordering right on the edge of Tundratown’s climate wall, served as the Rainforest’s equivalent to the southeast side of Zootopia. Just not a place people with not a lot of money went. That side of town looked more like it lived in spite of the Rainforest, while the bayou below him was the Rainforest. The buildings jutting up naturally from the living earth around it. The murky water protecting its own, with its thick mist and dangerous inhabitants. It was sheltering, in a way. Like a mother protecting its young. Nick liked walking through the district at night. When it was quiet. The light drizzling of rain would patter the wooden decks of the catwalks, birds calling in the small morning hours.

Nick knew that it was not always so welcoming. He had also slept through seeing Happytown. A gross government housing project that bordered the southern edge of the Rainforest district and Sahara Square right on the Iles River. It was built as a place poverty stricken mammals could live relatively cheaply. It just happened that most of the mammals suffering from poverty in this town were predators. It also just happened that it quickly turned into a ghetto once the police presence dried up. Now it sat as an ugly scar on the riverbank. A reminder of what the world really looked like. It was in even more disarray than the southwest side, but with the added benefit of being incredibly populated. Most of the predators just had nowhere else to go. There were no small town jobs for preds. No equal opportunity businesses out in some podunk town. The mammals out there had an even worse opinion of carnivores. It did not surprise Nick that all of the people that he grew up with either stayed right where they were or took a hard labor job that takes you far away from this. Oil rigs, boats, shipping, train yards, and salvage jobs were all things that were disproportionately occupied by predators. Nick supposed it was easier to get the jobs no one else wanted to do, and it came with the perk of being far away from the cities and prey communities that despised them so much. Being seen as an undesirable outcast your whole life has the ability to make most people detach themselves from it. Taking hard labor jobs, or in a lot of cases, taking to satisfying a vice. Happytown was full of vice these days. If it wasn’t a collared street walker or the alcohol that flowed like rivers, it was the mammals slinging on the corners. The empty pill bags and needles littered the dark corners of that despicable ghetto. Barbiturates and heroin is dirt cheap because of how much there is. It’s not like only the poor preds did it, either. The richer traitors sitting high in the towering skyscrapers took to morphine, stronger pills, and expensive alcohol. Anything to make sure the collar around your neck didn’t try to kill you for at least a couple hours. All it did was feed the prejudice. The hate. On both sides of the river.

Nick did not want to think about it right now. It was a constant battle to keep his mind clear and away from destructive trains of thought like Happytown or what he had just seen. Instead he occupied his mind with thoughts of the city as a whole. Zootopia for all of its faults, and there was a numerous amount, was the only place in the country Nick thought of as home. After his father died, he had taken to doing small jobs around the nation, moving from town to town with no real concern. The first couple years had been legitimate enough, after that Nick just found it was so much easier to make a living in a less than legal manner. He would reason that he wasn’t really hurting anyone, so it was only just a scumbag thing to do. Nothing evil. After some time, he returned to the city, meeting back up with his friends from long ago. From there he continued his irrefutable behavior, but the city didn’t seem to care. The beast was far too indifferent to the relative suffering and malcontent inhabitants. It just sat on the Iles, patiently waiting for oblivion as the two sides of the river tore each other apart. The split down the middle of the city looked almost comical in nature. The towering, sleek skyscrapers of the financial district surrounded by cozy neighborhoods and soft parks made the west side look like a bad joke. Short, harsh buildings and rusting industry surrounding acclimatized districts made for a disjointed, patchy mess that spread out from the river. Beginnings of sleek architecture and wealthy neighborhoods had been taking over the acclimatized districts for some time. Pushing the unsavory lower classes further westward. 

The Iles River separated east Zootopia from west. A separation that mirrored the state of each side of the river. With communities like the Docks, Happytown, the frozen slums down in the ice shelf below Tundratown, the river barges of the Rainforest, it was no surprise which side was considered “the nice part of town.” The west side housed Tundratown, located north of Sahara Square and northeast of the Rainforest district. It was the second largest acclimatized district behind the Rainforest. It's border on the Iles River was small, but significant. The dam that stretched over Zootopia's largest river jutted out of Tundratown's northern climate wall, and supplied all of the power that the climate control systems needed. The small lake that pooled around the base of the district was the city's main aquifer, and it also supplied the coolant tanks that were pumped through the climate wall that split the cold district and Sahara Square. That warm water was then used in the Rainforest district's sprinkler system. South of that was the Docks. It stretched all the way to the river's mouth and met the ocean. The surrounding neighborhoods and metropolitan area framed the districts that clung to the riverbank in a plain shape. Stretching westward along the ocean and north along the river. The east side of Zootopia was all Downtown and expensive suburbs backed up to towers of rock and trees. The towering skyscrapers of the unique skyline silhouetted against the dusty mountains made for an insurmountable sight all the way from his home in the Docks. The east side of the river's mouth also had one of the largest stadiums ever built called “Animalia”. A flat cylinder that stretched a very large distance. The parking lots could be seen all the way from the heights of the Rainforest. It was surrounded by million dollar homes and modern buildings framed by groomed roads with large gardens and arching trees. Large swaths of tamed parks and golf courses spotted that side of town. Beyond that was the Burrows. Enormous communities of rabbits and other small mammals. They weren’t considered a part of Zootopia, but the Burrows stretched from the city all the way to the Whitestone River. Mostly farming country. He had only seen pictures of it, but it looked tranquil. Not like the city.

The foliage of the Rainforest began to subside as Nick understood they were at the edge of the district. The rain that was relentless in hitting the metal tube began to subside, as the train swiftly moved out of range of the many sprinkler systems installed into the canopy. Large leaves smacked the hurtling beast as it flew by, the rain stopping completely. The train broke out of the dense jungle, and sailed over a plain bride above a smaller river that fed into the Iles. Nick looked across the train car and out the windows opposite from him and saw the large suspension bridge that the regular traffic used to traverse the river. Its steady green ark rose and fell over the water, leaving vertical lines that held the bridge in place to plunge down to the road. The supports looked like giant horns on either side, their bases submerged deep below the surface of the water. The low industrial lights and abandoned smokestacks of the Docks shimmered on the still surface, reflecting the overgrown cityscape. Just below the base of the suspension bridge, on the Docks side, nestled a small metal hanger that sat on the edge of the water. No lights radiated from the long-abandoned building. It sat in silence, allowing Nick's vision to watch it only for a moment before the train traversed the remainder of the plain bridge, and the river behind him was swallowed up in the darkness of the tunnel that now enveloped the subway car.

Nick continued to stare out the windows opposite to him, even though the open sight of the city had been replaced by just another dark tunnel with dim lights flashing by. He sighed, not sure what to think. His dream still clung to his mind. The feeling of freedom that only removing his collar could create. Nick wondered how long he could keep his park open. Everyone would be against him now. The cops. The prey. The predators that would accuse him of giving them a bad name. Koslov. He needed a way to keep all of them off his back. He could not rely on their mutual conflicts to distract them. He would have to look out for himself. Maybe he didn't have to as Nick's mind drifted to his friends. Maybe they could work as a team to make sure the park lived on. He would be asking a lot from them. Too much, even. To ask them all to give up so much just for Nick's dream was unthinkable. Now that he was in bed with his new “business partner” he felt bad about even asking them to work for the park. Let alone what he had in mind. Nick's mind filled with plans for the future as the train begin to slow.

A low electronic tone played over the loudspeakers of the cabin accompanied by a pre-recorded announcement, “Next stop, OceaCo Rd.” This was Nick's stop. OceaCo owned one of the warehouse complexes back before Nick's time. It was a shipping enterprise from what he could piece together by osmosis. It went out of business and the buildings had been demolished to make room for one of the Docks' largest housing blocks. The name just stuck, he supposed. Nick got up from the smooth plastic chair and straightened out by pushing onto the small of his back with both hands, being met with more than a few popping sounds. He collected the pieces of his model and stuck it under his left arm. Wandering over to the doors of the subway car, he waited for it to come to a complete stop. Another electronic tone played over the speakers. “Now arriving, OceaCo Rd.”

The doors slid apart with a hum, and Nick stepped out. Making no attempt at observing his surroundings, he had grown up not far from here. He knew this station like it was his second home. That and Nick really did not feel like looking at all of the homeless predators begging at the steps for loose change. Not today. He made his way down the dimly lit street of the Docks. The asphalt cracked in disrepair. Tall grass and weeds grew out of every available opening. It had been abandoned with the industry. It looked like no one lived here. Like it was given to nature who had slowly begun taking it back. Vines reached tall on every brick or cement wall. The trees grew into power lines, threatening to tear them apart. Large patches that once belonged to trimmed grass and sculpted plants now completely reclaimed by nature. The entire southwest side had started to look like this some years ago. All of the money went into building the city's financial district, and the hundreds of square miles of suburbs. Nothing ever came to the Docks anymore. They only left. That was painfully obvious by the staggering amount of completely abandoned buildings littering the area. Not worth doing anything with, too expensive to tear down, and frankly the people that owned the property didn't even want to think about them these days. He had heard from Finnick a while ago that the same company that owned the site of the park was also going around buying some of the other properties for pennies on the dollar, but he found it difficult to think of a reason why. He did not think that they were about to soar in property value anytime soon. Especially now that they were about to open up an incredibly illegal predator's paradise. Nick retrieved his pack once again, bringing it up to his mouth to bite into another cancerous chimney. He bit at still air. He eyed the pack, shifting it sideways to peer into the box. It was empty. Huffing, he tossed the pack into the next garbage can that he passed. A rusted bin made out of horizontal green bars. Weeds were growing out of it, and a small tree had made its way several feet above the opening. No garbage truck would be coming for the pack, but at least it wasn’t littering the street. Most of this town’s inhabitants were not so kind.

Finally taking a turn down a dark alley towards the waterfront lead Nick to the broken cement path that reached all the way to the edge of the water, a river-wall jutting out the black liquid several feet. The backs of buildings that faced the street lay in haunted disrepair. Windows busted out and broken glass littered the overgrowth. The roller doors that hung almost all the way to the ground but not quite were busted and bent inward by an unknown force. Lampposts that had snapped at the base were unrecognizably melted in the tall grass. Railroad ties and piles of old wood and scrap metal were dumped into forgotten piles. Large shipping containers of different colors sat idly waiting for their next load of goods. The bottoms rusting out. A light green coating of algae spread out into the water and around lonely wooden pillars that once belonged to docks. It clung to the banks in all directions, following the river all the way to the ocean. And right below the shadow of the suspension bridge, was the hanger-like factory that stood tall in its sad state. Proud of its own fortitude. 

Nick watched the horned bridge grow larger as he neared its base. Too wrapped up in his own mind to realize how far he had walked. The building looked like a miniature version of an aircraft hangar. Its roof arching over the ground in a steady half-circle. The outside was made from a ribbed metal material that bowed along the frame, spotted with rusting patches and overgrown plants. The front and back of the half cylinder was covered in an angular glass pattern, too covered in dirt and moss to see through. Most of the windows had remained intact even after so much time, but there were quite a few that had been punched out by thrown rocks or makeshift games. It was once a galvanized silver texture. Sparkling on the still water of the river. It had been the jewel of the Mike Otto’s Fishery Business. Boats from all over the Iles river estuary and out from sea brought their hauls to the docks at the base of the factory. When Mike Otto died after Nick’s father had moved onto college, the business was supposed to go to his son. Except, he didn’t want it. From there it moved hands several times before ending in the will of Mike’s closest business partner. It remained in limbo for almost 10 years before the property was seized by the bank and a company by the name of Sierra Estates. Then all of the machinery and the rest of the estates connected to the business were liquidated to pay for the outstanding debts of a handful of dead mammals. Which is what made the site such a promising choice. Sierra Estates was the same company that had been buying all of the property in the Docks. They had been doing it for several years now, and have yet to do anything with a single piece of land. Nick figured that whatever it was the company was doing, it would give him enough room to operate rent-free and under the nose of any good samaritans concerned about illegal activity. 

The red roller-door hung open in a rare state of attention, and light radiated from the cracks and openings of the retired building. It came from headlights that shown on the factory wall, reflecting off the metal and bouncing around the large empty establishment. Familiar voices also echoed through the rafters. Nick made his way through the opening below the red door, and peered over the unbroken slab of concrete over the source of the light and noise. Sitting and talking at the back of an open orange van, was Finnick, Ben, and Honey. The van was a burnt orange color that had been weathered since it was last painted. The design on the side reflected that of a fantastical barbarian hero who had just saved a helpless damsel. The retro color scheme long since fading in contrast, giving the side of the vehicle the impression of an old polaroid photo that had been left out in the open for too long. The driver side door had been stripped out and switched with a plain grey replacement. Finnick was comfortably leaning back against his elbows that rested behind him on the floor of the van, his paws weaved together on his chest. His giant ears drooped slightly in concentration at the conversation that was taking place. The bite-sized fennec fox was comically small next to the great big cheetah that sat next to him. Ben was many things, including fat. He was hunched over with a beer in his hand looking at Honey, who had taken control of the conversation with extreme gusto. The badger swung her beer wildly towards the back of the van she was facing, obviously engrossed in whatever diatribe she had gotten into this time. Throwing head and alcohol in all directions as she emphasized her points with excessive gesturing. 

Nick was pleased that his friends had taken the time to come down here, and was also quite happy they had started without him. It was clear Honey had already been through at least a couple, and Finnick had already started his neat and organized line of empty bottles. Ben just nursed his first drink, mindful of the fact that someone is going to have to drive them out of there. The van faced the wall of the old industrial construction, parked on the smooth, unbroken slab of concrete that stretched over the entire installment. The headlights had been used to reflect light all over the room to some extent, but the warm incandescent cabin lights of the van illuminated the important conversation that was taking place on its tail. It was a very large rectangular room exaggerated by the high ceilings and web-like rafters that formed to the arcing shape. The walls were made of generic metal being held together by a tough looking frame. On one side of the building there were a collection of roller-doors, all different colors, that led to the site’s river access and docks. On the other side was an offshoot that stuck to the outside of the building. It was similar in material and purpose, but it instead occupied the space in very sharp angles and rickety stilts. The box stretched out away from the hanger shape almost 30 feet, and was split into two stories. The bottom floor consisted of the rusting stilts spaced out evenly to support the office above. There was a set of stairs running parallel to the split between the two sections of the building. Its long punched steel steps climbed upwards in a steep 60° angle. The wooden door at the top had a foggy glass top panel with the word ‘Manager’ written out in bold letters across it. Several windows broke up the solid face, and the office behind them had been impenetrably hidden by a number of damaged window blinds. 

Making his way over to the van, Nick shifted the weight of the broken model one last time before speaking up, “Hey guys, how’s it going?” Nick effortlessly cracked his famous grin with lidded eyes, trying his best to seem normal. Finnick and Ben’s ears perked up at the voice, abandoning their on-edge expressions for a mixture of surprise and relief. Honey spun around on the spot, swinging more beer from her bottle out in Nick’s direction.

“Nick!” Honey called out to him in deliberate expectation, “I was just telling these two about the mayor’s speech today, can you believe that fucking liar said-”

“Okay, Honey.” Nick lifted his arm in an attempt to calm her down, chuckling at her temper. “We all know you don’t like Rampike, but this little get-together isn’t about him.” He fished his hand around in his coat pocket until he was satisfied with his grasp. “It’s about this.” Nick swung out the stack of bills and threw it at Finnick, who expertly caught it in midair. Finnick lowered his hands to look at the item he just caught and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. All three mammal’s glances tore from the pile and back at Nick who only smiled back.

“Nick,” Finnick began to speak, still not being able to register the fact that he was holding so much money. “This is-”

“A lot of money,” Ben chimed in with wide eyes. “How much is it?” He brought both of his paws up to his cheeks in anticipation, the beer still in his hand. The glass smashed the side of his round face, shifting most of the skin around the bottle. It gave the impression that he was mostly made of loose fur and fat, but Nick knew he was also pretty fit for his size. The cheetah worked for a fish packing facility down south by the ocean. He spent his days hauling enormous catches between the boats and the cleaning rooms, throwing the large chunks of muscle and cartilage onto hooks that would attach to their tails.

Nick sighed through his nose and walked over to the back of the van. Sliding the broken model up the tail of the vehicle towards the front, and sat back down on the bumper. “It’s about 20 grand. When I spoke to Koslov’s accountant the other day, we nailed down the amount that I would be asking for.” Nick said with a shrug, his smile growing wider. “It should be enough for the construction and all of the machinery we need, as well as wages for the first couple weeks if it’s slow to pick up.” Reaching back towards the 6 packs of beer, Nick grabbed at the closest one to him. 

“Oh, grab me another one, too. I’m out.” Honey called over to Nick as she walked towards the van, setting down her empty drink next to where Nick was sitting.

Grabbing a second beer, he moved back to his spot and handed the unopened beverage to Honey, who gratefully thanked him and back up from the van opening her new drink with a bottle opener on her keychain. Turning his head the rest of the way to look at Finnick. “Have you spoken with the contractor recently?”

“I spoke with Carl the day before yesterday,” Finnick shot back and downed the rest of his drink, the stack still in his hands. Finnick gestured with the money back towards the inside of the van, being met with a nod from Nick. He moved to place the money in a secret compartment by the wheel well. He punched a speaker panel inward, so that it would pop out of its holding and fall slightly into the frame of the car. He carefully reached inside to store the money for safe keeping, just in case. He was wearing his generic shorts and short-sleeve button up, black with a red stripe running vertically asymmetrical to the front of the piece of clothing. His fur was a burned sandy color with white patches around his ears and chest. His brown eyes did little to hide his hostile attitude. “If I was to make a guess, I think he’s ready on his end. The sellers for the rides have been getting antsy, but this should calm them down, don’t you think?” He said, replacing the speaker panel to its original spot.

“Oh, man, that’s so exciting!” Ben shook in his spot, making the van wobble on its suspension. A delightful expression taking hold as he sat his drink behind him. “We can finally start working on the park! It has taken such a long time for this to happen, I don’t even know where to start!” His extra-large t-shirt strained to keep his belly covered as he bounced, a faded grey with some pop band’s logo on the front that Nick wasn’t familiar with. He wore blue slacks that were the dress code for his work, the fronts stained and wrinkled from the day’s work. He smelled like fish to Nick’s elevated senses, though he was used to it by now. Ben made it clear a lot of the time how he did not like working for the fish packing plant, but Nick knew him to actually drool over the selection of fish at the supermarket. It wouldn’t surprise him if it turned out he got the job just to be around them.

“You can start by finally finishing that drink, Ben.” Finnick called back at his spotted friend as he moved to place his empty drink evenly in his careful line. 

“Oh, leave him alone short stuff,” Nick jokingly retorted snapping the cap off of his own drink by positioning it on the angular bumper and hitting the top. “Some people don’t need to drink their weight in alcohol to have fun.” Nick was met with the bottle that Finnick was just being extra careful with being thrown at his head. He ducked just in time for it too soar over him and bounce on the concrete without breaking. The piercing sound echoed off of the metal walls as it rolled away.

“See what happens next time, funny man,” Finnick spoke away from them remained in the interior of the van to grab another beer from the discarded packs that were now almost empty.

Nick smiled. “Now, did I hurt your feelings? I can assure you, I wasn’t trying to.”

“So, Nick.” Honey spoke cautiously, prompting Nick to raise his eyebrows and turn to her expectantly. “Did you hear what the mayor said?” She emphasized the ‘did’ with both volume and thrusting her drink at him. 

Nick’s eyebrows dropped considerably. He sighed. “I heard something about it earlier today, but I was busy. What did he say?” Nick took this moment to take a long gulp from his drink, waiting in bated breath for the rant to come.

“That lying piece of shit actually tried to pass himself off as the man that unified the city!”

Nick’s eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t aware that the city had been unified.”

“That’s it!” Honey threw more beer from her nearly full bottle in their direction again, this time she eyed at her drink irritated. Like she was disappointed that it had allowed for the spill to happen. She returned her glance to the trio that now sat on the back of the van, who were intently paying attention to Honey. “That’s just it,” she went on. “That brainless ram comes on TV all the time and talks about his many accomplishments in bringing the city closer together, and yet all he has ever done since he took office is try and push us out!” Her speech was broken up by dramatic impressions of the mayor. “Now he thinks that passing some inclusionary ordinance for the police force will get his lying ass re-elected.”

Nick took another sip of his drink, turning to Finnick and gesturing for a cigarette. “I don’t see what’s wrong with some kind of equal opportunity thing. It seems harmless enough.” He reached for the cigarette that Finnick was handing over, and sat his drink beside him. “If he wants to pander for votes, he should campaign on banning collars.” Finnick snorted at that statement as Nick retrieved his lighter and lit the end of the bundled fiber. Taking a long drag off of the end, he pulled it out and inhaled deeply before exhaling through his maws and snout. He started speaking again while smoke was still trailing out of his breath, “Honestly, it’s not like it’s going to do jack shit anyway. It’s better to just ignore that shit. It’s obviously got nothing to do with us.” Nick’s mind again wandered to the brutality he had seen tonight. The more this city changes, the more it stays the same. All of the political speeches in the world couldn’t fix that. The problem wasn’t with rotten politicians, that was everywhere. The problem was there was no one problem. A million different things came together to foster the hostile atmosphere, and not one of them could be fixed without addressing the others. An insurmountable platform for even the most pandering of politicians.

The badger huffed through her sharp teeth and looked over Nick. “It’s got everything to do with us. The moment some tiny mammal cop gets what you’d expect, this whole city will blow up.”

“The city won’t blow up. Plenty of dead cops and brutally murdered predators have come and gone. Not once has one of those riots come to anything but getting hosed down by a fire truck.” Nick paused to look at his friend, collecting his thoughts on the subject. “Happytown only happened because The Renegades pushed their luck and because the cops were dumb enough to do it in the dead of night.” He took another drag regarding his shorter badger companion. She was wearing what she usually wore. Baggy cargo pants that pooled around her feet, long claws sticking out from the worn fabric. The pants were a dull green color, and were held to her frame by a cotton weaved belt. The buckle being just two loops of metal, it had a tendency of loosening to where Honey had to pull her pants back up and tighten her belt plenty of times a day. Her shirt was an ordinary tank top with no identifiable logos, as they have all faded into obscurity, over an old shorts bra that stuck out from the tank top straps on her shoulders. Her fur was mostly rusty brown and patches of black, save for the pattern on her head of white and two black stripes coming down over her head past her eyes.

Honey, obviously offended by this statement, was very fast to continue. “How would you know, Nick? You weren’t even here when it happened.”

“You don’t have to be so harsh,” Nick said raising both of his hands in surrender. “I may not have been here, but this city doesn’t change.” He used his left hand to emphasize his point by lifting his head and grabbing the mechanism that was attached to his neck. “Nothing ever changes.” He paused to let his point sink in, returning his hand back from his neck. “The prey outnumber us 10 to 1. They hold all of the public offices. They hold the majority of the police force, and what little predators are on the force hate us more than most prey. This city can’t be torn apart not because we don’t riot, but because they can stomp out any dissent in an afternoon.”

Ben finally took this as an opportunity to interject. “Okay guys,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? I’m tired of hearing about this stuff all the time.”

“Actually, you’re right.” Finnick offered up. He had been staying quiet with something on his mind up until this point. “I actually have something I want to talk to you about, Nick. You promised me you’d tell me about your deal with Koslov.”

“What about it?” Nick replied questioningly. 

“Let’s talk in the office.” With that, Finnick pushed himself off of the van and started walking towards the staircase that led up into the manager’s office. Nick exchanged looks with both Honey and Ben, but could do nothing but shrug his shoulders at their confused expressions. He stuck the burning cigarette back into his mouth, and grabbed his beer. Pushing off, he followed Finnick towards the stairs.

As Nick followed his short friend in the direction of the building’s offshoot, he turned back to the two mammals still at the back of the van. Seeing that they looked concerned, Nick decided to sate their worrying natures. “Don’t worry,” he called back to them. “We’ll just be a moment. Don’t drink all of the beers!” Nick finished with a grin on his face. He turned back to Finnick, who was now climbing the steep metal up to the office. Nick wondered what he wanted to talk about. He wanted to talk about his meeting with Koslov, for sure, but was he angry? Was Finnick mad about the fact that he had gone against his advice to stay far away from that gangster? He thought that maybe he had a point, and he was about to get a very long ‘I told you so’ by the fennec fox.

=====================================================================

Nick parted the ragged blinds with his claws, looking out at Honey and Ben laughing on the back of the van. He really loosened up after a short time of talking. No one was fit to drive home, but it didn’t worry them. They had spent more than one night all sleeping in the back of Finnick’s van.

“I told you this was going to happen.” Finnick’s voice was low and rough. He was deep in thought at the back of the office. “I told you the second you said the name Koslov that this was going to fucking happen.” Well, it’s not like Nick didn’t see that coming.

Finnick was sitting on a half shelf that had several of its wooden boards splinted in the middle. The shelf was backed up against the far right corner of the office. It was bare except for an old rolling office chair that did not have wheels anymore, and a desk that had two missing legs. It leaned down to the floor, lopsided. The office was decorated with faux wooden paneling on the walls and sheetrock tiles for a roof. Fluorescent lights missing their bulbs and coverings spaced out between them. The floor was made of a flat blue carpet. The kind that had the texture of recycled cardboard and looked like denim lent. It was in tatters and in several places it completely unraveled showing the plain particle board below it, strings of curly plastic waved in all directions. The only light in the room came from the windows, casting horizontal shadows on the walls. Smoke filled the small room, while both of its inhabitants sucked on burning fibers.

“It’s all a big mess, Finnick.” Nick called back at his irritated friend, moving his hand away from the window and watching the sorry blinds fall back into place. They were covered in dust and grime, every second or third piece of plastic either bent out of shape, split into several pieces, or just completely missing. “But we can’t do anything about it now. We just have to come up with a plan.”

“A plan?” Finnick shot back at him with a menacing glare after taking a long drag. “Look out that window, you fucking prick. Do you think you can come up with a plan that will help them? Do you think smooth-talking and conning your way out of this is even going to work?”

“What are you talking about, Finnick? There’s no con this time. No pot of gold at the end of this rainbow, this is only gonna go one way. The only question is when.”

The fennec fox looked over Nick, not sure what to say. “You involved all of us when you didn’t even think you were going to get out of this? No exit plan at all?”

“I didn’t involve any of you. Not yet, and not ever if you don’t want to.” Nick stepped towards the small figure perched on the shelf, and began to speak again. “Everything is lined up already. I can deal with the crew myself. You can walk away if you want to. All of you.”

Finnick clicked his tongue at Nick, trying to remain composed when he was obviously seething with rage and irritation. “Just walk away, huh? Just what kind of person do you think I am, Nick? You want me to set you up with one of the worst people in the entire city to be your business partner and then just hit the road? No fucking way.”

“Well the offer stands.”

This time Finnick scoffed louder than should be possible for his small frame. “Yeah, whatever.” He turned his head to watch the discarded office furniture sit completely still, like they had done for more time than people wanted to believe. “You should have just kept trying to do it legit, Nick.” He said in a low tone, calmer than he had been during the rest of the argument.

“What? Finnick, you and I both know no fucking prey is going to give me a damn loan to start a theme park for monsters.” Nick swung back at him, throwing extra vitriol in the ‘monsters’ like he was trying to mock it. “I’ve been trying for months now. This is the only way it will ever happen.”

Finnick snorted. “And how does that excuse the fact that you’ve just tangled Ben and Honey up with a ruthless gangster? Even if you say they’re free to walk, you know they won’t.”

“They aren’t going to be anywhere near that scumbag.” Finnick looked up at Nick. “The only people that are,” he went on. “Is me and you.” There was a long pause between the two. “You know why I’ve done all of this. Why I’ve put so much effort into making this happen. Why I’ve stuck with it through all of this.” Nick gestured upwards and around with both hands. “And you know why they do it too. They believe the same thing I do, Finnick. That this park will make it all seem better. Even if it isn’t, at least there will be a place in this rotten fucking city that doesn’t treat us like scum.” Nick’s collar beeped in the still room, turning yellow. “I want this to happen, and it’s happening. I can deal with Koslov.”

Finnick laughed at the thought. “You? Deal with Koslov?”

“What choice do I have? I don’t want him anywhere near any of you.” Nick tossed his wasted cigarette on the ground and stepped on it, retrieving another one from the new pack Finnick had left next to the ashtray on the shelf next to him.

The fennec fox breathed hard and slid backwards on the shelf. He stared up at the ceiling, expressionless. “God dammit, Nick.” he sat there quietly. Allowing the room to fill with silence and smoke. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” another long pause enveloped the room, broken up by the clicking sound of Nick’s lighter. His collar returning to its idling state of green after the initial intake. “But we can’t just be a group of friends anymore.” Finnick shift to look at Nick. “We have to be a team,” he went on. “We have to all work together to ensure the park survives. For as long as we can.” Finnick did not move.

Finnick sighed. “A team like what? If this park can’t survive for long, what’s the point?”

“You know the point. It’s worse than ever out there, Finnick.”

“People have always said that. Every time in history, people have said it was the shittiest time to be alive.” 

”Exactly why we should do this. To make it a little less shit for at least a couple people.” Nick took a moment to take another drag, thinking to himself. “We can’t all just work at the park. It’s not safe like that, and we can’t trust Koslov’s resources to keep us informed.”

The smaller fox’s eyebrows perked up. “And what do you expect us to do instead? What resources? All we’ve got is a dozen chronically unemployed predators that are only loyal to a point. We can’t build a syndicate out of that.”

Nick looked over at the small mammal. “We don’t need to. Just the four of us can work.” Nick glanced at the small figure perched on the shelf, taking his inquisitive look as a sign to go on. “We have to split up. We need to know what’s going on if we want to stay ahead of this.”

Finnick’s eyes narrowed. “Are you serious? How do you expect a group of four predators to stay ahead of all of this?”

“It won’t be easy, but we can make it work. Once Honey is done with the power siphoning and security systems, she can be our investigative muscle. There is no point in having her just sit around and watch for technical glitches. We’re much better off if she’s using her skills to watch our back from a security standpoint.” Nick straightened his back and continued pensively, “You’ll have to work the criminal side of it all. I don’t mean to accuse, but you’re the only one who’ll pass as a hardened criminal here. I’m nothing but a snake oil salesman to them, and I think we’ll do good to look as criminal as possible to these people.” He trailed off his last sentence. “If we look like the real McCoy, we’re more likely not to get stabbed in the back. When these people get a whiff of a snitch-” Nick grimaced deeply, a dejected expression taking hold. “They have a tendency to string them up from the ceiling.”

His eyes only narrowed more. “Oh, so you just want me to start working more closely with this city’s crime lords and gangsters while you sit here in your office relaxing. That’s nice.”

“Don’t give me that. The second the police show up, you can be damn sure who here is going to be the one to feel it. Besides, you’re the only one who can. All they see when they look at me is a fox. They will trust you more than they ever will me.”

Finnick still wasn’t convinced. “What about Ben?”

Nick looked down, deep in thought. He did not want Ben to be caught up in all of this. He certainly didn’t want him in harm’s way. Ever since he was a small cub, he had been the only decent one of the group. He believed in people and how they could work out their problems without violence, and it showed in his aversion to anything unsavory. He had even been incredibly upset at Nick once he learned how he had been making a living when he returned to town. It was almost a crime to make him into a criminal like the rest of them. “I don’t know.” Nick whispered to still air.

It was not like Benjamin Clawhauser was a bad guy. Not like the rest of them. They had wallowed in the distasteful hatred of the city, yet Ben came through unscathed. Like a beacon of nobility in a horrible world. When he was young, he had volunteered at lot at school. Helping the teachers and staff of the wrecked inner-city education facility, even after getting teased because of it. He had made great scores in school, enough to go to a good college, but not with a scholarship. He had opted to start working instead. Caring for his mother that had grown very sick because of the fumes that came off of the factories and plants during her youth. Most of the mammals that lived in the Docks at that time did not have good health because of it. A lot of them developed a number of cancers and lung diseases. Ben’s mother was one such unlucky person. She was still strong despite all of that, Nick had been incredibly surprised to see her when he came back to town. He had grimly thought she wouldn’t have made it, yet she did. And still does. That’s just the kind of people that belonged to that family. Nice, decent people that this world didn’t deserve. Ben even wanted to be a police officer, at one time. That dream was crushed so bad he had taken up a habit of eating too much. He just didn’t know how to deal with hate like that. It made him uncomfortable.

That gave Nick an idea. A stupid idea, but it might just work. “Hey,” Nick started, watching Finnick’s eyes trail back up to his own. He was not going to like this idea. “Why doesn’t he try to get into the police academy?”

Finnick’s eyes shot open, his expression rapidly spreading into shock. “Excuse me? You want him to become a fucking cop while we are building an illegal business?”

“We need someone on the inside of the police, Finnick. I am not going to use anyone loyal to Koslov or just money. Ben doesn’t have a record like you and Honey. Plus, he’s always wanted to be on the force.” Nick let that comment trail off into the cold air. He was actually starting to not like the idea himself. “And with that new Mammal Inclusion Initiative getting passed at city hall, he finally has his chance. Even if they do just want a token pred.”

Finnick’s expression grew into a mixture of confusion and contempt. “You believe that shit the mayor is saying?”

“I believe he wants to get re-elected. That’s all I need to know.”

Finnick ran his claws through the fur on his head, pushing down his ear along with it. “I can’t believe this, Nick. This is so fucked.” He feathered the lit embers off of his cigarette with his claws, and tossed it in the overflowing ashtray beside him. Pushing himself off the shelf and landed on the floor with grace, he spoke again. “If you’re serious about all of this, then we really need to talk this out with the rest of them.”

“Yeah.” Nick turned and stepped over to the window once again. He parted the blinds with his claws and looked down at the two mammals still having fun. They were laughing hysterically. He could feel Finnick’s eyes on his back. He really dreaded to think what he had gotten himself into this time.

“Do you even have a name yet?”

Nick turned back to his friend. Slowly, an evil grin covered his face in an epiphany. His eyes relaxed to their normal lidded state and he hissed out in a low voice, “Wild Times.”

Finnick just stared back at him with a blank expression. His brow furrowed when he finally spoke. “That’s really bad.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Koslov have a "chat."

Smoke trailed towards the ceiling from the embers still burning in the ashtray abandoned on the precarious edge of Nick’s desk. Nestled in piles of paperwork and oddities. The only sound coming from room was the electronic whirring of a box fan that had been angled atop a stack of fliers on an armchair missing its legs in the back corner of the office, and a dim lamp that had been clamped onto the lip of the desk buzzed quietly. That was not the only sound that could be heard, though. Rattling, shaking, loud music from half a dozen attractions and the bustle of the early morning of the park echoed its way through the thin windows of the office. 

Nick sat on a familiar chair. An old office rolling chair missing its wheels in front of a desk missing two legs. The chair was blue, darker in its age than when it would have been new. Duct tape and stitching kept its upholstery together. The desk was standing freely, on one side. The two intact legs coming down onto the worn floor at an appropriate angle. The other side of the desk was held up by several wooden crates, and stacks of discolored fliers. The same ones that held the box fan. The office was chaotic enough despite the unorthodox sitting arrangement. Different colored filing cabinets hidden behind mountains of files and fliers lined the wall to the left of the door. The wall opposite of that held another table, this one more complete than the desk, several old dark blue plastic chairs, and more stacks of paper. On the table sat a television, several years out of circulation, and on top of it the repaired model of Wild Times. Its lights blinking and roller coaster busily zipping around the small model without delay. The room had also since been jury rigged with a spider webbing of wires, stapled to the wall unevenly. Several lights flashing green on a metallic box attached to the wall, a unit that belonged to Honey’s closed-circuit intercom system. It also doubled as an announcement device with a flip of a switch, connecting the cheap microphone to the park’s loudspeaker systems. 

Nick was thumbing absentmindedly through a number of papers. Not focusing on anything in particular. Financial reports, employee files, and intelligence reports from Koslov’s rat in the police force. Nick laughed to himself at the idiom. He was not a rat at all, but a lowly goat clerk that got the officer’s coffee. He couldn’t remember his name, not that he cared. He did not plan on ever meeting him. Nor did he plan on reading another one of the goat’s unintelligible and pointless reports. He did not care that one of the sheep officers was now going out with some bartending ram down in the Rainforest district. Nick threw the papers until they slid to a stop near the end of the desk. Nick sighed. He scratched his bare neck. He did not have to wear his collar much these days. Being a criminal and hiding out in an amusement park where predators didn’t have to wear collars had its perks, he guessed. Even when he did venture out, Honey had changed the identification chip in it to read a different name. Nick did not plan on going out because of being put on a secret blacklist that would flag his collar if scanned. He watched the digital clock that sat atop a file cabinet and pointed at him from across the room. 1:27am. The day was finally winding down to a crawl, and guests were leaving. Wild Times would be closing at two, and then he would have to have his nightly meeting with the staff. Something he did not plan on enjoying.

Two years ago when he opened the park, he had done so with no security hiccups. Not a single one. The process for patrons to enter the park was ill-informed and nowhere close to being safe, but that didn’t stop the park from having a great start. Koslov made his money back after the first three weeks, and after that it was nothing but profit. It continued to go without a hitch for some time. That was, until the first incident happened. A brawl of sorts. Two wolves had gotten hot around their collars (which were unfortunately removed at that time) and got into a first fight. It took his small group of employees and himself several minutes before they could break up the fight. By that time the damage was done. They were both scratched to high hell and looked like they went through a garbage disposal. The fight had to have been staged elsewhere at Koslov’s request so that there would be no questions about how they managed to fight for so long without getting shocked. Not only did Honey have to forge logs on both of their collars to show they were shocked when we wanted it to say they were, but Koslov also had his men use tasers on the wolves’ necks to look appropriate. It was something Nick didn’t like seeing, but he had to. It was partially his fault. 

Since that time security had been beefed up to an extreme degree. It was just unfortunate exactly who the polar bear chose to hire. The Renegades. A predator biker gang that had their start as drug runners in the Docks area. They are ruthless. Their leader is on every known terrorist watch list this side of the burrows, and their reputation was well deserved. The narcotics they had started out with fell to the wayside after they became the number one group to call if you wanted a gun or someone that could use one. Mercenary work seemed to suit them just fine, too. The problem was they had a tendency not to let go of their dealer credentials. Which was why Nick was dreading the closing meeting. He had heard from some of his employees that afternoon that they had seen them dealing to customers again. Confronting a known murderous gang that think they live so far above the law that they frequently just have people disappear did nothing to calm Nick’s shaking nerves. At least he could count on Alfonse to have his back, even if the rest of his gang wouldn’t. He sighed again.

A muffled tone played through the room, coming from the drawer in front of Nick below the desk. Whatever it was playing an incredibly generic ringtone, one that usually came with the weak burners that he frequently bought. Nick pulled the drawer out and regarded its contents. A pale green flip phone was lit up, while a couple others remained in steely silence. Nick brushed a fully loaded .357 revolver out of the way and grabbed at the pale green electronic, pulling it out of the drawer and into the light. He closed it with one hand as he flipped the phone open with another. It was Finnick’s number. He accepted the call and brought the phone up to his ear, looking back down at the paperwork that littered his desk. “Hello?”

“Nick,” Finnick started, his low tone masked carefully. “Anything going on over there?”

Nick looked up from his desk across the room, not sure of what to make of that question. “What?”

“Oh, good,” the fennec retorted, sighing. “He’s not there yet.”

Nick’s ears shot up from where they and sat relaxed on his head. That was not good. “What? Who’s not here? Koslov? Is Koslov coming?” Nick quickly pushed off from his desk and made his way towards the windows that lined the wall the door was framed in. He parted the blinds to his office, regarding the park.

Wild Time was large, and made room of every corner of the hanger-like building. The tallest rides sticking close to the middle, so that they could reach as far as they needed without hitting the ceiling. Signs and lights flashed in chaotic form. The many different colors and shapes of the rides and attractions fed to the form that Wild Times was always bustling with energy. String lights clung to every rivet and rafter, lighting up the ceiling. Huge signs detailing directions and the different things to do in the park hung from the roof or held up by long supports. The layout below looking like an ordinary amusement park. Lined with concessions and bar barriers that could be easily moved around. Potted plants and palm trees filled the empty space of the paths, the walls were decorated with a similar aesthetic. Cardboard cutouts of palm trees and vines cluttered the once empty walls. Carousels, roller coasters, a Ferris wheel, all aided to the look of your ordinary theme park. There was even water rides and dark-room laser tag for the mammals inclined. Several predators stalked the edges of the park, dressed in sky blue jumpsuits. Nick had forced all of his employees, including the Renegade muscle, to wear the same cloths. The only difference between his own people and the thug enforcers was a black outlined ‘security’ title printed on the back and breast pocket. Predators of all sizes walked through the amusement rides and activities that spread across the park, loitering against railings and attractions. All laughing, joking, running, all without collars. An unbelievable excitement filled the air, but for Nick it was a completely different kind.

“Yes, he’s coming over.” Finnick continued. “I’m sorry, but I only heard about it just now. I have been out doing things for that whack job all night.” He sounded tired, but more importantly annoyed. Like he was upset Koslov had made sure to visit Nick when he would not have the chance to warn him.

“What does he want, do you know?” Nick was making his way back to his desk. Frantically searching for his cigarette. Finding that the embers had burned through the whole thing while he was distracted, he went to searching for the carton instead. “Is he coming about that thing I was talking to you about?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Finnick’s tone darkened, taking on a stern sound. “I think he’s angry about his cut.”

“His cut?” Nick replied while lighting his new cigarette and taking a long drag from it. “That fucking bear knows damn well that he’s been getting his full 40%.” Nick swiftly returned to the window and parted the blinds again. Still no sign of the gangster. “I don’t know why he expects anything different. I’ve made it perfectly clear to him how I feel about his business opinions.” 

“I think that’s why he’s mad, Nick.” Finnick shot back. “If you keep blowing him off about selling his product in the park, there is not much I can do on my end to keep him from just killing you.”

“He wouldn’t dream on it.” He growled back, baring his teeth to an empty room. “Me, Scott, and Jasmine are the only ones that know the code to the authentication guns, and I am the only one that knows the activation code so you can even have a chance to put the removal code in.” He growled again. “If he didn’t keep backing me into a corner like this, I wouldn’t have had to make Honey do it in the first place.”

“I’m warning you, Nick. If you keep dancing like this, he’s liable to explode.” Finnick pause for a long time. Thinking of what to say next. He started again in a low tone, barely audible. “He’s not used to people like you playing him. He’s seething every time anyone brings up the name ‘Nicholas Wilde’, you can be damned sure of that.”

Just then, Nick caught in his eyes the tall bear walking into the front door. An unusual entrance to use in their current setup. Predators of all sizes that still clung to the last couple minutes of the park’s open hours coward away. Moving back away from the crime boss and into the recesses of the park. “He’s here.” Nick said in an emotionless voice, staring out at the bear. A number of bodyguards stepped out into the warehouse behind him. All some of the most ruthless enforcers among the Tundratown mafia. Koslov was not playing around this time. “Finnick, I’ll call you back.”

“And if you don’t?” The question was serious, laced to the core with bad thoughts.

Nick looked out towards the cabal of polar bears making their way towards his office. A slow and steady pace. He had not blinked. His eyes wide in anticipation for the confrontation about to take place. “You remember the plan,” Nick deadpanned and flipped the phone shut. Discarding it onto the table to his left next to the TV. He remembered the gun in his desk. He would not be able to use it, even if he wanted to. This was a bad place to be, but not the worst. He had planned for something like this to happen. It involved a number of secret security cameras and audio recorders being transmitted wirelessly to a receiver planted in the ceiling. From there, any footage of criminal wrongdoing would be packed up by Honey and shipped off to the ZPD. Then they would all disappear. They being his friends, Nick knew what preparing for something like this meant. An implicit acceptance that he would likely not leave this room alive. Koslov was getting close now. Nick moved back around his office and sat down at his desk. Pulling open a file cabinet to his right, he fished out a tame collar. He had thought it wise to allow the collar to do the talking for him in most cases. Showing Koslov that he wasn’t off the deep end of predatory freedom was always a good point to start. Even in pred circles, someone who got addicted to the feeling of not being in the collar was a dangerous mammal. They often became obsessive. At first, they’d start having panic attacks while they wore the nylon device. Nick had heard of several people who had to be hospitalized because the condition lead to a never-ending cycle of panicking and getting shocked by the collar. Then they became hostile. On two such occasions the Renegades security had to pin a mammal down because he refused to put his collar back on. After that, the security became less about keeping unwanted people out, and more about keeping the collarless predators in. It was harder for some predators more than others. 

Some of them, this was enough. Having the freedom to walk around without the worry of getting shocked a couple times a week. For others, not so much. Nick had never heard of predators that literally could not wear their collars before he started Wild Times. After was another story. The news even gave it a name: “Predatory Maladjustment Disorder”. Nick often wondered if it was his fault. The tame collar had killed someone. They were one of the first cases of PMD, and he was shocked 297 times before his heart gave out during his panic attack. It lasted for almost nine hours. New software safeguards were rolled out in less than a week. The distress beacons that could be beamed to emergency lines were originally intended for mammals that tried to remove their collars without authentication. Now they were sending cops out to find predators convulsing in their own vomit because they were having a panic attack directly connected to the thing shocking them. Nick’s mind drifted into something he wanted to forget. Three weeks ago a woman had beaten herself with a bench in ZPD central holding. She tore off her claws with her teeth and then smashed her face into a metal bench until nothing was sharp anymore. He had seen pictures from the goat’s report. There was blood everywhere. Eyewitnesses claimed she pleaded for the guards who restrained her to take the collar off now that she wasn’t a predator anymore. She didn’t even make the morning news. It filled his mouth with a disgusting taste.

Nick settled his rising nerves as he began to hear heavy footsteps on the metal staircase leading to his office. The noise became deafening as more and more polar bears climbed up to the office. The worn brass knob on the door turned, and a sturdy looking mafia member walked through. Wearing the usual attire of Koslov’s most “talented” enforcers. His expression that of complete disinterest. It was Anton. Koslov’s go-to for anything that involved a body and some garbage bags. Nick wondered if he intended to be this transparent throughout the entire meeting. Sending his most accomplished killer through the door first did nothing but give him the impression of what Koslov wanted him to think. Nothing about what his intentions actually were. 

Koslov was second through the door after Anton, who had moved off to the side of the office to make room for his boss. Koslov was obviously not happy. His scowl melted off his face with a newly invigorated dread. His deep blue eyes piercing in Nick’s direction set back into dark circles. He wore a dark gray pinstripe suit, an ebony turtleneck hugging his muscular neck and over his collar. The tip of the electronic device stuck up past the black fabric, barely visible. Gold chains and necklaces hung down around his heavy shoulders. He moved deliberately, but slowly. Making his way through the office towards Nick at an agonizing pace. More polar bears filed into the small office, one after another. Until the office was almost completely full of some of the worst people to ever live in Zootopia. Some of his entourage stayed behind, at the bottom of the stairs. Nick imagined even more waited by the vehicles, exits, and security room. Koslov had practically brought a small army with him. The door closed with a whine, sealing the room from anyone who could help the small fox. The silence was pierced only by the low sounds of the amusement park loudspeakers and attraction music. “Nicholas,” Koslov deadpanned. All of the bears now stared down at Nick, who had mustered all of his courage not to look scared. It was times like these Nick was amazed the sheer tension alone didn’t trigger his flight-or-fight reflex. Nick thumbed the desk quietly. Acutely aware of the firearm’s presence. “I’ve come down here quite a lot recently, don’t you think?” His heavy accent sent reverberations throughout the small room. “And yet, nothing has changed.”

Nick stared up at the tallest among the group, expressionless. He did not know what to say, so he opted not to say anything. Perhaps if Koslov got the impression that bringing two dozen straight murderers down to his office didn’t faze him, maybe he’d leave him alone with his park. Probably not. The business arrangement between the two came across good enough, but rocky does not even begin to describe the current status. Not only did Nick refuse to allow any product to come though Wild Times that wasn’t leaving for a new destination right after, but business was down. With the PMD scare, the increased police presence in the Docks, and the rising tension between the various gangs in the area, it could be going better. “I don’t see what you mean, boss.” Nick replied incredulously, still seated and smoking a cigarette. “I think it has changed quite a lot.”

Koslov did not like that. His eyes grew wicked with hate. With rage. Being the boss of the most feared crime family in the entire city for so long did not prepare him for this situation. “You think yourself brave, Nicholas.” Koslov’s accent became thicker the angrier he was. “You think that embarrassing me in front of all of my friends here-” He gesture around the room as he continued, “Is your best move?” Koslov approached his desk further. Almost stalking towards him, at any time prepared to strike. “Never in all of my years,” He beamed in a whisper. “Have I seen a predator like you. Your irritable tiny friend, I understand. Your paranoid computer-woman, I understand. But you…” Koslov reached the edge of Nick’s desk. He lifted his left hand over the desk, moving it to his right. His giant paw glided over the stacks of paper and useless junk. Koslov wrapped his long claws around the lip of the wood, taking a firm grasp. “You I do not understand,” He whispered. His muscles tensed. He pulled at the lip, the wood splintering under his sharp grasp. The fliers stacked underneath the desk holding it up unraveled, several lone papers flying upwards with the soaring wood. The room’s empty air was filled with spiraling paper and sailing pieces of random office equipment. The desk pivoted on its only two legs and smashed into the floor, continuing to follow its momentum by then crashing into the file cabinets that lined the wall. A heavy patter of objects followed the splintering sounds of wood and banging metal. 

There goes the gun, Nick thought. Koslov made no attempt to let the movement sink in, he grabbed at the armrests on either side of Nick, splitting the worn fabric with his claws. He leaned his face just inches away from the fox, an expression of murderous rage taking hold. Despite that, his collar had only blinked yellow. “I’ve made up my mind,” He screamed down at the small mammal. “You and your kind have done nothing but cause me trouble. I’ve given you too much freedom.” He was quickly returning to his low, deliberate tone. “I do hope you can appreciate the fact that the only reason you are alive is you have made sure it would be very inconvenient to kill you or your friends.”

Nick’s expression had not changed all that much. He maintained his usual lidded eyes, his lips contorted into an annoyed frown. If he was trying to seem like he hasn’t completely lost his damn mind, he was doing a poor job. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that fact, Mr. Koslov.” Nick was respectful in his speech, although you could clearly understand the negative undertones. “I also appreciate the fact that I have never broken our agreement. You have gotten 40% of all income into this park. On the dot. I have never lied to you. I have given you all of the transparency you have asked for, the moment you asked for it. I have kept my end of the bargain,” He took a moment to look at Koslov, who had not moved from his position inches away from him. “But this is an amusement park. Were children and adults alike come to run free in spite of the chains they have to endure out there. I will not have you dealing your poison to these people. I have told you. I have told your gangbanger pals. I have explained it in very thorough detail to anyone who will listen. You run all manner of illegal contraband through my park, sir. Do you really need to sell it here, too?”

Koslov straightened upward, retracting his claws from Nick’s seat. He looked down at the red fox, sick with rage. The group of polar bears flanking him still remaining still, not moving from their spots. “I have to admit, Nicholas. I am disappointed.” He slid his claws up Nick’s neck in a threatening way, scraping his skin. Then he moved his paw to his face, the claws just a hair away. The massive paw snatched the burning embers from Nick’s mouth, and in one motion slung it to the ground for his waiting foot to stomp it out. “You could not even show me the courtesy of putting out this disgusting shit,” Koslov spoke almost inaudibly to no one in particular, maybe even himself. He gestured behind him. A lone bear moved to his side, stretching out his long claws and placing a baseball bat into the steady paw of the enormous predator. He shifted the weight of the long piece of hardened wood in his paws. Rolling it around on his sharp claws. 

Now we are talking, Nick thought to himself, an expectant expression taking hold. It came to this at last. It was not the way Nick had imagined himself going. In fact, he often dreamed about slipping out of existing peacefully when he would sleep under the stars during his time as a drifter. Like never even existing in the first place. The cold night wind that breezed through his loose button up shirt could never have prepared him for dying in such a brutal way. There was no denying it. Despite the careful planning and inevitable acceptance something like this would happen, it didn’t make it any easier. Nick did not really want to die, but the only thing filling his mind at that time was the incessant itch of the collar. The nylon felt like it was digging into his skin, tearing the fur out. The light was green. Cool against the atmosphere of the room. No doubt encouraging Koslov’s every movement. Maybe the only thing he wanted to see was nick’s collar blink yellow at the prospect of being beaten to death with a baseball bat. Nick gave him no such pleasure. He did not want to go out, but he did not want to give the fucking bear the satisfaction of begging more than that. 

“Let me tell you something, boss.” Nick calmly continued. “It has been a pretty hard time being me. I’ve had to claw and scrape every ounce of dignity out of this world. I’ve been all over this nation, and do you know what’s the strangest thing?” Nick rose up on his chair, standing on the cushion to be taller than he was. He growled at the Mob boss, “Not one inch of this country didn’t want me dead. Not one mammal, be it prey or otherwise, thought that I was anything more than a lowly fox. Yet look at me. I built this place. A lowly fox actually did something good for this world, and you want to take it and besmirch it with poison. A long time ago you said to me that it wasn’t easy to carve out a piece for yourself, that it was hard. Well I’m not carving out a piece for myself. This park isn’t about me. The idea was here before it was, and the idea will live long after I’m gone.”

Koslov gripped the baseball bat as strong as he could, the strength making the wood whine under his grasp. “A man that does not fear death,” Koslov spoke. “Is dangerous. You cannot use someone like that. You can’t bargain with someone of such conviction. This is not a good thing for me. When I met you two years ago, I should have killed you. Now I am stuck with you. Do not think that I do not know your games, Nicholas. You’re very good at games. It’s the fox in you.” He allowed the end on the bat to slide out of his clawed paw, so that it hung down at his side menacingly. “If I was to tell you that I did not plan on killing you now, what would you say?”

Nick stared at the burning eyes of the polar bear. His furious gaze cut into him like knives. “I would say that you’re making a good business decision.”

Koslov scoffed. Bewildered at the fox’s defiance even now. “You remember our deal, Nicholas?” Koslov took one step back, positioning himself at a lethal angle. He continued in a gravelly tone, a whisper that pierced the still room. “If you ever give me a reason to think you are not making me money anymore…” He lifted the bat high up into the air, swinging his other hand out in front for balance. Nick braced for a heavy impact, but never broke eye contact. Koslov began to bring the bat down, stronger than anything Nick had ever seen, but as the motion was happening Koslov was pivoting. He turned his muscular form almost completely around as he swung the bat, until he was facing the small table that was backed up against the wall. The first impact was at the top of the blinking model of Wild Times. The lights seemingly brightening as the wood splintered the small sculpture. The wooden bat continued through the model, like it was passing through air. Small pieces of the model and electronic bits flew in all directions as the crack of the impact filled the room. It was completely split in two, and fell to pieces in both directions away from the heavy bat’s path, but it kept on going. Next it struck the television below it. The plastic and wooden paneling cracking and splintering under the force. The screen spider webbed, cracks appearing in the glass in all directions away from the impact. The force was so strong, the bat in Koslov’s hands split. The thick end flying across the room over his head as the handle continued unopposed by solid matter. Koslov spun around on the spot, wood, plastic, and shards of glass still falling from the sky. He lunged at Nick. The oncoming force shook Nick to the core, he fell backwards into the chair, unable to stand tall in the face of the mountain of muscle and hate barreling towards him. The sharp end of the broken handle embedded itself in the fabric next to his head, mere millimeters away from his neck. Koslov glared down at the small form below his spiteful face. His free paw grabbed Nick by the neck, and lifted him off the chair a few inches. “There will be consequences.” He growled at the suffocating mammal. 

Koslov dropped him. Nick staggered on the chair, trying in vain to retain his balance. His throat burned in pain. He fell down to his knees, still on the chair. Nick coughed and hacked for some seconds before returning his pained gaze back up at the polar bear. Koslov had taken several steps backwards, and was buttoning up his suit that had become disheveled in his movement. He corrected the chains hanging on his strong shoulders, never breaking his hateful glare. His scowl was even more pronounced than before. Then he stood. In silence. All of the other Mob members shifted slightly, as if they expected something else. They glared at each other for some time. In complete silence. Arbitrarily, Koslov broke the gaze and turned. He walked straight passed his goons and for the door. The group shifting their eyes from their boss and the small fox that was somehow not dead, and back again to their boss. They did not know what to think of the confrontation. Koslov opened the door, the metal scrapping against his claws. “I will say hello to Morris for you,” was all he said as he descended the stairs. His group briskly following after him, but not without passing parting glares at Nick.

When the door shut, Nick shifted his weight. He brought himself up and then back down again in a seated position. He leaned his head back into the seat, angled slightly as to not lean on the bat handle embedded in his chair. Nick closed his eyes and sighed. He would not get another house call like that. No, Nick understood what this one meant. Koslov had made it very clear that he was done playing games. He wasn’t a business partner anymore; the money Nick was giving him was a ransom. For his own life. It was finally time to accept the fact that the time had come to leave. He could do nothing else for the park. Now he had to think of an escape plan. An out from the Mob that didn’t involve the grave.

A knock at the door roused Nick. “Excuse me, Mr. Wilde?” The girl that opened the door was one of his employees. A thin hyena by the name of Jasmine. Her eyes grew wide as she admired the scene, a devastating mess of broken wood and discarded paper. She looked at Nick with fear, but eased on her spot when she noticed he was still alive. She clung to the doorknob, leaning all of her weight on it as she sighed heavily. “Oh, God...” She spoke in a shaking voice, barely containing a panic. Her collar was already yellow when she opened the door, clearly distressed by Koslov’s visit. “I-I thought they…” 

“Don’t worry,” Nick replied emotionless. “I’m not dead yet.” He pushed off his chair and stepped over to the overturned desk. He cemented his position and heaved on the wooden slab. It budged and fell over itself, sliding on the corners of the file cabinets that held it upright. The wood smashed into the floor, once again filling the room with a heavy impact. Nick crouched down at the file of junk and paper that once rested on his desk. He brushed a stapler out of the way and grabbed his carton of cigarettes. Straightening out, he moved too light one of them with the zippo he kept in his shirt pocket. The smoke filled his lungs, and he turned to the hyena expecting her to speak.

“The, uh.” She stammered on, “The last of the guests just left. We’re all waiting for the meeting.”

Nick regarded the shaking predator for a moment. Wondering what he looked like to her. Perhaps he was a scary as he felt right at that moment. He shifted his gaze back to the overturned desk, and made his way over to it. Pulling the drawer out, the contents spilled all over the floor. The phones, the paper, some random assortment of office material, and the gun. Nick grabbed the textured handle of the revolver. Pulling it up with him as he straightened out to a standing position. He flicked the cylinder open, looking at the bullets pressed into the metal within. Satisfied, he looked back up to the worried mammal at the door and watched her eyes as he stuck the gun into the back of his pants behind him. Nick took one last drag from the cigarette and gestured with his clawed paw. “Lead the way.”

They made their way down the metal staircase, the old rivets and bent connectors squeaking along their path. Jasmine was uncomfortable. She had been massaging her arm with her paw all down the stairway and out towards the front of the park. It was unknown to Nick what exactly she wasn’t happy about, but he could guess. She was one of the first predators to ever work for Nick, and that was before the park. She had helped him on a number of schemes that he had come up with, so it wasn’t like she was a stranger to criminals. He did feel like a stranger to her, though. At times, it looked like she didn’t even recognize him anymore. Dark circles had developed under his eyes, and an almost constant aura of dread and smoke followed his every movement. Nick regretted how far he had allowed this to go on. He scratched the skin under the tame collar, beginning to feel restricted once again. The gun felt heavy hanging on his belt. One more thing, Nick thought. And this day will be over. Just one more thing.

The park was in a familiar state of operating abandonment. The flashing lights and upbeat music played throughout the warehouse’s musky air. A distant roaring of water from the back of the park could be heard, but there was nobody there. The streets and paths of Wild Times were empty. It was probably a little after two, and everyone had gone home seemingly without incident. It seemed like more and more predators didn’t want to put their collars back on and violently tried to exit the park. He was thankful there was nothing like that tonight. He might not have been able to take it. They made their way through the main path through the park, small bits of trash littered the bases of the metal bar barriers. Somewhere in the park, a couple predator janitors that wouldn’t be taking part in the evening’s meeting were cleaning up the trash. Several more remaining at a constant vigilance around the inside and outside of the building. At least The Renegades did what they were paid to do, even if he couldn’t trust them to do it without supervision. 

As they neared the front of the park, Nick saw the group of mammals that had collected at the front of the park. Almost two dozen in total. At least a dozen and a half regular employees and the remaining were the hardened gang members dressed inconspicuously in their sky blue security jumpsuits. Nick and Koslov’s lone collector were the only ones that stood out among them. He wore his usual black pants which had grayed with use. His long white dress shirt stuck up around his belt, half-heartedly tucked in. The collared shirt had long since yellowed with the constant clouded atmosphere. His tie was barely holding onto its knot, it hung disheveled and out of place. Nick was probably by far the meanest looking predator there, despite being several sizes smaller than most of the other mammals. Even meaner than Koslov’s representative, who was one of his trusted accountants. A lawyer that would take the profits from the park and run them through his various fronts to be laundered. He looked more like a prey sympathizer than one of Koslov’s goons.

“Alright,” Nick offered to the uncomfortable group. “Another day in paradise. Good work, people.” He regarded the group. Seeing that none of them had anything to say at that moment, he continued. “Okay, let's get this show on the road. Jasmine?”

The hyena nodded at Nick, grabbing a clipboard from the predator next to her. She looked over the paper that clung to the hardened wood and started, “Well, the total today was $28,851 when we combine the total profits from admission, all the attractions, and concessions. That means $11,540 is going to be going with our good friend Mr. Berezin.” The polar bear lifted up his suitcase and patted it respectfully when prompted by Jasmine’s gaze, showing it to the group. “That leaves about seventy-two hundred dollars for employee wages, about four and a half grand for our friends handling security, three grand to pay for the food and supplies, and about three grand to the park.” Finishing she looked up at Nick, who had been listening intently. 

“Anything I should know about happen at the clinic?” Nick questioned. The clinic was one of the only ways people could enter the park. It was a pediatric clinic up the hill from the building. It stuck close to the main road, bordering right on the highway that fed into the suspension bridge leading to the Rainforest. An inconspicuous pediatric center, it was how families with small children entered the park. They would reserve appointments, and through a false wall in the back of the offices would venture into an abandoned metro tunnel that they had redecorated for the families that would use it. They would head down a small tunnel to get to the park. Inefficient to be sure, but it was much more enjoyable and friendly than the other way people got into the park.

“Nope,” Jasmine replied. She checked the clipboard as if to confirm it herself. “I spoke to Scott a couple minutes ago, and he said everything was smooth sailing at the clinic. Same thing for the Tooth&Nail. It would seem Koslov’s extra security over there hasn’t slowed anything down.” Tooth&Nail was another one of Koslov’s fronts, and the only other way to get into the park. This one a nightclub. People who wanted to get into the park from that entrance had to be subjected to several layers of security. Any one of them could earn them a lifetime ban if they failed. Metal detectors, strip searches, and being constantly stared at by ruthless polar bear thugs made for the process to be thoroughly unenjoyable. Still, it was a lot faster and could process more people than the clinic. That had to form to the rules and expectations of a normal looking medical center for children. 

“There wasn’t any incident since the one this morning, but it is starting to look like we won’t be able to get away with it.”

Nick sighed and looked off at the park behind him. “Tell him that if he does not do what we say,” Nick spoke away from the group, watching the string lights in the rafter’s glisten. His collar dug into his skin again. He could feel the fur burning underneath. The small mechanism’s heat spread into his neck like an infection. “We will have no other choice than to hand him over to the appropriate body. We’ll throw his ass out on the street in front of ZPD central and keep his damn collar.” Nick turned back at the group, who were all watching with careful expressions. His eyes trailed over to a lion among them who wore a security jumpsuit. The sleeves had been rolled up to accommodate his heavy forearms. He stood expressionless with the group, arms folded. He was the resident leader of The Renegade’s small group. “I’ll leave that to you Alfonse, before you go.” The proud lion nodded his head in acceptance. Him and Nick had fostered what could arguably be called an agreement over the time they had worked together. He was one of the only people in the group Nick could stand. Nick turned to the rest of the group. “If there’s nothing else, you can all collect your pay from Jasmine on your way out.” He turned back to Alfonse, “If you’re not doing anything right this moment, I’d like to speak to you on your way to the back.”

The lion nodded again, this time slower. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but beyond that no discernible change took his expression. He was probably wondering what Nick wanted to talk to him personally about that couldn’t be said in front of everyone. “Jasmine, if you would,” Nick said to the mammal to his left. He reached up to his collar and stuck his thumb under the nylon. She watched the fox for a moment before pulling the scanner gun that was attached to her belt up. She points it at Nick’s tame collar, punched in a code on the top of the gun with her free hand, and clicked the trigger underneath. The collar sat idly for a couple seconds before a tone played and the light turned blue. The collar’s nylon came loose, and Nick grabbed at it before it could fall. He rolled it up and stuck it into his pocket. Then he turned and started walking, taking a long drag from his nearly complete cigarette. “See you tomorrow,” He called back to the group. They walked in silence through the park. It wasn’t until they were out of hearing distance from even the most acute predators did Nick speak. “Who’s staying for the morning shift?” 

The lion started in a cautious tone, still trying to make out what Nick wanted to speak about. “Michael, Jamie, and Sheryl.” He spoke with a deep accent, from somewhere out west. It had blended so much with the Zootopian sound that it had become indistinguishable. From what Nick knew about the large predator, he had moved to the city at the behest of his dead brother when he was still alive. The collar that hung around his neck was larger than Nick’s, its size and model reflected his outsider appearance. It was a parole collar. They were more sensitive to changes in mood and heart rate, they also logged more information. They used to log GPS data, but that had changed when one of mayor Rampike’s privacy ordinances passed the city council. Still, Nick did not trust the hollow promises of his “elected”, and had Honey write some code in the collar to range ban the coordinates around the park, and change them to that of the Tooth&Nail. As he was officially employed as a bouncer there. Nick had known some mammals that had to wear them, but Alfonse had found himself on a blacklist. He was never going to get that collar downgraded unless the law was changed.

“Did you know that my people caught Jamie trying to deal to my fucking customers again?” This time Nick spoke in a growling voice, his sharp teeth visible the entire time.

Alfonse regarded Nick. He was trying to be diplomatic again, and it made Nick irritated. “No, I did not know that.” He went on, “And if I did, I would have told him to stop. You know that. This park does a lot more for us than pay us a couple grand a night, and I wouldn’t jeopardize that.” It was true, the park did do a lot more for The Renegades than a simple mercenary position. Like Koslov, they ran a lot of contraband through this place. Guns mostly. A lot of them were heading out of town to be sold elsewhere. They didn’t do a lot of firearm transactions in their home turf anymore. The atmosphere had become a little too heavy for that.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Nick said, “What I said would happen if I ever caught anyone dealing in my park again?”

“Yes, I remember.” The lion turned his eyes to the path they were following and continued, “He won’t be around here anymore. I’ll get someone else.”

“Good.” The walk grew quiet again. Both predators didn’t have anything else to say on that subject. He knew that the other gangbangers of the group would just laugh in his face if he ever told them to stop, but Alfonse was different. They had also known each other before the park, and he was actually the man who had sold him the gun that hung on his belt. Nick had known his brother Frederick when he lived in Happytown with his father. Nick spoke again, “Have you given any thought to what I was talking to you and Finnick about the other day?”

The lion did not move his eyes from the path they were walking. “Yes, I have. But I cannot tell you who it would be.” He scratched his tattooed arms. The ink barely visible below his fur now that he had allowed it to grow out. “I do not think it would be anyone in my group. They’re dumb enough to deal to children, sure, but not dumb enough for this. Most of my guys couldn’t bump a lock let alone pick one, and if they were to wear a disguise you would still be able to tell what species they were. I think that your culprit is probably one of Koslov’s enemies. I can’t imagine anyone like that would be coming for you. Plus, I don’t see what they would have been after.”

“Maybe,” Nick replied absentmindedly. “I’d still like for you to keep your ears open. I’m starting to get a bad feeling about all of this.” Nick glanced up at the tall mammal walking with him, watching him with lidded eyes. “You might need to start thinking about changing occupation. Maybe not leaving the gang, but definitely getting out of this mess.” Nick stopped. Alfonse continued for a couple steps before stopping himself and turning to the fox. Nick was staring at his feet. “If only the prey would hire us to work on some rural farm somewhere, huh? Even the cities are a bad idea for us these days.” He lifted his head and turned to one of the attractions. A carousel of fantasy creatures and cartoon monsters. “That would be nice.”

The mammal’s long mane shook as he laughed. A hearty chuckle that could only come from a lion. “Nicholas Wilde, a carrot farmer.” He convulsed even more at the thought, his enormous teeth shining through his smile. “Now that’s a funny picture.” He turned and continued walking towards the back, still with one more job to do before he could go home. “You have a good night, Nick.” He called out to him as he strolled away, beginning to whistle a tune through his teeth. He stuffed his long claws into his jumpsuit pockets and swung his tail from side to side as he disappeared through the jungle of amusement rides and decorations. Nick watched him go, reminiscing on times long passed. Nick missed Frederick. He was like his brother. Too good for the disgusting biker gang.

Nick turned and moved back to his office, smoke still trailing behind him. He took the long way back to his office, he wanted to look at his park. Each ride was unique in its own way, each attraction catered to a specific kind of predator. It was not an easy thing to run, and infinitely harder to run under the nose of the entire city. Many renovations had to be done to the building for the park to even be feasible. It was bright in the building, and it was open at night. It was loud in the building, and people lived close by. Nick had had construction crews board up all of the windows from the inside, all of the wood painted black as to not look out of place. All of the cracks and rusted out holes were repaired or boarded up in a similar fashion. He had all of the walls and ceiling covered in an angular pattern of wood, and had all of the spaces filled with insulation for soundproofing. The walls were then covered in plywood, and then painted over with a tropical theme of palm trees and blue skies. The roof, on the other hand, kept the insulation in place with just a couple 2x4’s nailed into the pattern. It was all lit up in spectacular illumination with everything from spotlights, string lights, rope lights, regular ceiling lights pointed down at the park, you name it. It was an enormous task just getting the abandoned warehouse park ready, let alone actually building everything.

The floor plan of the park was intuitively constructed. Main paths and roads flowed through the park in all directions. Rides, activities, food stalls, drink stands, bathrooms, a water park, and security booths all lined the decorated pathways. Lights and sounds of all colors and themes played through the park, all booming but still drowned out by the constant music playing over the loudspeakers. The entire park was drenched in a warm incandescent glow, only broken up by the different colors of the rides. The trashcans he started to be emptied, he had already walked past several that had nothing in them but an empty bag. The floors had already been mostly swept. They would be mopped the next morning before the park would open at four in the afternoon. 

It was a miracle the place hadn’t been raided yet. It was so entrenched, and dealt with so many customers on a daily basis, it was practically a real amusement park. If Nick didn’t know better, he would assume the police force just wasn’t doing their jobs. The truth was Koslov had every cop in the Docks in his pocket. They wouldn’t come to the park, though. Even though they lied about having any knowledge of a secret amusement park for predators without collars, they refuse to actually see it. Nick thought that they were probably scared of what they would see. The money is always sweeter when you can ignore why you are getting it in the first place. They were the same cops that looked the other way about drug smuggling, gun sales, and Happytown just in general. A real crisis of conscience, those prey. I guess they just like money more than they hated predators, Nick thought. Can’t really blame them for wanting to ignore the fact that this place exists. No, that would hurt their precious idea that we go crazy without the collar. Nick’s mind trailed back to what he was thinking about before Koslov showed up. More like we go crazy with them.

Nick rounded the corner at the edge of the building and started walking towards the metal staircase that led to his office. By this time, the various lights and sounds of the park were beginning to turn off. One by one different rides and signs shut down, the music stopping abruptly. After that it was the lights. Loud electrical sounds followed each one of the main lights turning off. The many rope and string lights weaved into the rafters and hanging down to a number of poles shut down in random order. Soon the loudspeakers shut off too. As Nick climbed the steep metal staircase up to his office, he took one last look at the park. All of the parks machines and activities sat in sullen silence, dark in shadow. The paths were lit up by dim lamps hanging from the ceiling, but that was it. No other light or noise permeated the large hangar like room except for distant sounds of the last janitors finishing their rounds, and quiet footsteps of the security force left behind.

Nick turned the doorknob and stepped through the threshold. The office was in the same shape he left it in. A horrible mess. Nick turned to the electronic box next to the door as he closed it. He flipped a couple switches and watched as the office was lit up by a bright fluorescence. He made his way across the wall, closing each blind as he did so. Nick then went to work rearranging his office back to how it was. It took some time, and some more effort, but he managed to get it looking halfway decent in a little under an hour. By the time he was mostly done, he was too tired to do any more. Nick slid the drawer of the newly positioned desk open, and pulled the gun out of his belt. He looked at it for some time. Just watching the movement of the box fan on the reflective metal. Nick sighed and closed his eyes. He tossed into the drawer and then went to fishing out the collar that was in his pocket. The green light blinked. On and off. On and off. Its soft green hue not giving credence to the fact that it was a powerful tool of oppression. Nick hated it. With every piece of himself. He threw it in the open compartment and slammed it closed. 

Nick stormed off towards the door and flipped the switches off, bring the room back to a shadowed darkness. It was darker than usual since Koslov made short work of his desk lamp. He would have to get someone to get him a new one. That is, if he lasted long enough to even need one again. Nick crawled back into his chair, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. He lit another cigarette, taking more of the burning air into his lungs and exhaling. Another day in paradise, Nick thought to himself. He closed his eyes. The whirring of the box fan and the gentle rise of smoke encouraging his tired mind. He drifted into a deep sleep. Nick dreamed of horrible nightmare. Being strangled to death by a mechanical snake, its blinking green light denying him of air. The night was long, and full of terrible nightmares. Warped images of a rotten world. Screaming faces of millions of people being strangled to death by metal snakes. His only respite was a glimpse of rolling hills of grass and trees nearing the end of his nightmarish sleep. Far from the scum and smell of the city. Peaceful mammals working out in the cool autumn air. Giant fields of farmland. Of the Burrows. The metal snakes nowhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This end note was written by the original author.  
> This series is still technically in its pilot phase, so I haven’t decided to follow through with the entire story yet. I’ve just changed it to be a 3-parter pilot. I figured one chapter that is pretty much for nothing but exposition, a dream sequence, and characters that would be completely different in the following chapter alone wasn’t enough to get my point across as to what kind of story this will be. Still working on the editing thing. I how it’ll get quicker as time goes by, but I do not know.
> 
> For now, I have dedicated almost 30k words to Nick. Not something I originally planned on doing, as I wanted to introduce Judy fairly early on at least in the way you know she exists in the story. Still, two chapters and rounding 26k total words in the story is worrying. I’ve found that I am probably wasting my time on a lot of information no one cares about, and I think my writing “style” is just pointless boring so far. In more than a quarter of the word-count for Zoo(dys)topia, I have effectively written, what? Five scenes? Really? There are 13 chapters in Act 1. Act one. And that’s three more longer chapters like the first, just two mini chapters, and six “normal” length chapters like this one that I have to write before the story technically even begins (i.e. the Wild Times bust and Nick and Judy actually start working together). Suffice it to say, I am not happy how this is going. If I keep writing like a pretentious Neanderthal, this story will never get done. I’ve planned for the story being sorta boring in the first act, so I outlined some action in places, but I am wondering now if there is even a point. If you have to read through almost 50k words to get to the first section of action, is there any way I can even fix that? Reading through most of it now, there is barely any real action as it’s mostly investigative work. Going through case files and following leads. Not exactly the kind of stuff that warrants chapters longer than my arm.
> 
> Still, I’m going to write one more chapter to top off the pilot and take stock. The next one is going to be a longer, as it will be the first Judy chapter. The story also changes perspective between the different characters, but it’ll mostly just be between Nick and Judy. Mostly setup and exposition like the last. If I was to describe the first act of the story, it would definitely be “build-up”. The setting and plot of the story is actually a lot more complicated than even I would have guessed. The relationship between predators and prey, the collar dynamic, the severely psychological effects that kind of society causes, and fragility of conscience really makes for a unique setting that goes far beyond some simple allegory. I would say if nothing else, I hope my story inspires people to really explore the premise. In a way that maybe goes beyond fandom, and ventures to the point of real literary merit. The themes and soul of the story is pretty much wasted as it stands right now. I think the creators of Zootopia stumbled onto something incredibly fantastic with their original story, yet nothing has come of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy says goodbye to her family and leaves for the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I completely forgot, here it is now.  
> Disclaimer, I own absolutely nothing, but if I did, Zootopia 2 would already have a release date.

The morning sun shone through the open window, a warm radiance dispersed the night’s cool stagnation. It shone down on the small cluttered room, casting hard shadows of the bed and desk in its path. The atmosphere of the room was warm, despite the coolness of the morning. Light, Sunday colors pooled on every surface, a faded aesthetic that only came from the worn interiors of Bunny Burrow. The room was small, and arced on one side with the roof. A lone window stuck out of the building towards the rolling hills of the countryside, like the fantastic waves of the sea. The breeze that rolled through the room made posters and paper pinned to the walls sway in the gentle movement. 

Judy was humming to herself, a peaceful expression on her face. She loved the mornings. She had thought they were her favorite time of any day for a long time. Working on a farm for the majority of her adolescent life, they were no stranger to her. She had been getting up before the sun since she was a small kit, helping her mother with breakfast and the goings on of the farm. Today was no exception. She had risen without having to be prompted by an electronic alarm, like she usually did, and had helped her mother with breakfast after a quick, cold shower. Now she was busy packing the last of the things she needed for her big move. She was being slow, and reminiscent about the affair. Almost sad to have to leave her peaceful room. But she had to. She knew it. It was her first big step to her dream, and nothing was going to stay in her way. Not even homesickness.

The room had a distinct ‘U’ shape, a barrier stood out from the wall through the middle. Half of the room was square, like you would expect, while the other half curved with the sloping ceiling. Her room sat at the edge of two sections of the house. One section towered further above, while the other gave way to a rounded roof. On the square side of the room, a staircase led up to an old wooden door, leading out into the hallway. It was rounded at the top, a pale green with a heart shape carved out of the upper part. The floors were a polished hardwood looking worn with age. The bed sat against the wall after the staircase. Positioned as the side of the room without the barrier, it almost reached both walls. Giving away the fact that it was a very small space. On the other side of the ‘U’ from the staircase a large desk nestled into the alcove. Above that was the window that blew cool air through the room. Various side tables and dressers finished the edges of the cozy living quarters, posters and papers littered the walls. Stuck to much of the space on the desk was a variety of police academy material. Books, fliers, rolled posters, and a whirring laptop sat in a chaotic order. The screen was occupied by what was essentially an exposé from her favorite journalist, a bunny named Lain May. She was from the Burrow, and had moved to Zootopia to follow her dream of being a journalist. One of the reasons Judy thought the world of her.

Judy finished her tune and started another, still packing the last of her cloths. After that she still had to stuff so much more, she wondered if she even had enough room. Perseverance and determination would surely prevail. She would fit all of her stuffed rabbits and carrot scented toiletries yet. She skipped over to her desk to shut off her computer, done with it for the day. The article had been read after when she was drying off from her shower. She needed to pack it with the rest of her stuff.

A knock on the door roused her attention from the desk. “Judy?” A voice softly came from the crack next to the door as it opened. Judy peaked around the corner of the barrier to see who it was. As the door opened, Judy saw her older sister coming into the room. Caroline. They met eyes and both of them smiled widely, from ear to ear. She lightly hopped her way down the stairs and threw her arms open to meet her small sister. “Oh, ‘a just can’t believe ya’re gonna be headin’ down for the city so soon!” She spoke in a thick country accent, like she wasn’t even aware of it. To Judy, it sounded completely normal. She had grown up with that accent all around her, if was just especially bag for her older sister thanks to all the time she spent with the friendly small towners of the Burrows. She would be horrified to know she sounded a lot like her sister. 

“I know! Isn’t it exciting!” Judy pulled from her arms far enough to look at each other, but not completely out of her grasp. Judy was beaming up at her hard working sister, who was wearing her cotton dress she would be taking into work in just a short time. It fluffed around her shoulders, exaggerating her small frame. The very conservative collar clung to her neck, the washed white fabric billowing towards the ground past her knees. Her fur was a sandy light gray color, same as Judy’s. The only difference was her tuft of white hair was toward the back of her head, slicked down by being brushed that way for 30 years. Her sky-blue Gingham apron stuck to the fabric with ease. “Are you heading to work already?” She offered with a sort of pained understanding. 

“‘fraid so. ‘a can’t rightly make ‘em wait for my lil’ sister to leave. It’s almost seven in the mornin’! Church is gonna be gettin’ let out any minute now, and ‘a’ve gotta be there for the rush.” She looked down at her sister with experienced eyes. “That’s why ‘a’m here now. ‘a wanted to wish ya all the luck in the world, little sis!” She brought them back into their embrace. Judy rested her chin on her older sister’s puffy shoulders. The cotton ticking her neck as she enjoyed the embrace. “You be good, ya hear?” Her sister said quietly, almost a whisper. 

Judy broke the hug and stepped back from her sister. “I’m always good,” she pouted back.

Caroline laughed at her and stuck her paw between Judy’s great ears. She ruffled at the tuft of white fur at the top of her head that stuck out towards her sister like spiteful bangs too short to hang over her features. “‘a know. If ya ask me, the ones who’ll be havin’ to keep an eye out is them city mammals. ‘a dread to think what ya’ll do ta some poor no-gooder.” She straightened out her apron and turned steely eyed towards Judy. “Now you be safe, Judy.” She started, making sure to enunciate every vowel and consonant, almost like she was mocking her native tongue. “Don’t let that rotten city get you down.” Judy squeaked in amusement at her sister’s exaggerated speech. Caroline’s expression grew softer. She stepped in for another hug, one that Judy accepted whole-heartedly. “And ‘a hope ya don’t forget about us little guys.” She had returned to her normal cadence. “Ya always have a place you can come back ta, ya hear me?”

“I hear you.” Judy sunk into the hug. After some seconds Caroline broke it once again, and hurried back up the stairs. She turned one last time at her sister, and mouthed an ‘I love you’ with the ‘I’ still being the shape of an ‘a’ despite not even speaking it out loud. “I love you, too!” Judy called to her as she hurried out the door and down the hall. The door closing behind her. 

Judy continue packing for a short time after that. Stuffing all of her items into the large suitcase she was using at weird angles. She had placed her laptop into a separate bag that she would be carrying on her shoulder, along with all of her important documents for her job at the ZPD. She had spent five months training at the police academy. She had spent several years before that taking online college classes while she worked on the farm. Graduating with an Honors Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice to help her complete her dream of being the first bunny policewoman. She had been working so hard for the past couple years, she guessed she had forgotten to think about the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see her family all that much once she left. It made her feel hesitant about the whole affair, but she knew what she wanted. This was going to happen. 

The last thing to go into her bags were framed pictures of her family. One of her whole family, one of just her parents, and a picture Caroline had given her yesterday at her farewell party. A simple picture of the house framed in plain oak wood. The large building sat on the top of a small hill, surrounded by neat fields of crops and oak trees. Billowing clouds above sat in gentle harmony with the wind. The house was large, large enough to fit all of her brothers and sisters. All 275 of them. Which meant it was a big house. Very big. It took the shape of several overlapping long houses, stretching organically into the air. The largest of the overlapping longhouses rested gently on the hill, taking the entire crest. The smaller of the two looked like a newer addition to the enormous structure. Its domed and curved roofs were lined with cedar shingling, shining a dark brown in the sun. Windows going stories into the air spotted the sides of the building. Grass and moss grew out of every crack and crevice of the structure, making it look warmly abandoned. The truth being betrayed by the towering chimney billowing out a cloud of dispersing gray smoke. The walls were a cool beige, painted neatly on the flat surface. Small picket fences and wooden arches swayed with the hill around its base. The side of a bright red barn could be seen on the far left of the picture. She had practically grown up in there, sleeping on the hay bales stacked in the loft.

She chuckled to herself when she remembered sliding down the pulley system stuck to the front of the old barn. She had nearly given her father a heart attack then. Not that it was that hard to give her father a heart attack. She had gotten close more than once. She sat the picture down onto her stack of cloths, stuffed bunnies, and other junk and lovingly closed the suitcase. She made sure to zip the entire thing up carefully, not smashing any of the things inside. Heaving at the massive suitcase, wrapping her arms around it as much as she could, it lifted off the bed enough for her to sit it down on the floor. She pivoted the heavy luggage on its wheels, so that it stood upright. She smiled to herself as she pulled the handle out. 

Judy took one last hopeful look around the room. She would be back, she thought. For holidays and such. It’s not the end of the world. She patted her bed, thankful for all it had done for her and her stuffed bunnies. Turning on the spot with her suitcase in tow, she stopped dead. Both of her ears fell down as she stared at the daunting staircase. It was insurmountable, surely. No way could she pull her massive bag up all eight flights of stairs. She huffed, pulling herself into a good posture, and stomped towards the staircase with conviction. “Nothing is going to stay in your way.” She whispered to an empty room. “Not even stairs.”

With much effort, and scrambling, she finally made it up the stairs. She had gotten stuck on two dips in the wood where she just sat scraping her feet on the ground, but caught no friction as they just slid away. She pushed her tongue into her large front teeth in frustration. She had finally gotten it up the staircase by turning it around and pulling on a handle near the bottom of the suitcase. The wheels grabbing onto the lips of the stairs, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her progress. Stealing just one more last look at her room as she opened the door, she smiled warmly. Not only was it not then end, it was the beginning of something she wanted more than anything. She turned abruptly, heading out the dusty room and into the hall. The hallway leading out of her room was plain enough. It followed the same Sunday color scheme, the rows of doors on both sides being light, dim colors. Some of them were a pale green like her own, others a pale purple or even yellow. The hardwood floors of the building made way for a brighter brown stain, and made it easy enough for her to just roll her way through the hallways of her Bunny Burrow abode. 

Framed pictures of hundreds of small bunnies littered the walls. She knew the names of them all, and could tell them apart perfectly. She never really thought about how that would be almost impossible for any mammal that wasn’t a bunny, it just came so naturally to her. Like a lot of things. She had always been a very skilled person, but the thing that gave her the edge over everyone else, no matter their size, was her determination. When Judy Hopps put her mind to something, it was more than likely to get done. She sighed in relief as she walked down the passage. She was anxious and excited, but more than that she was ready.

When she reached the end of the hallway, the room opened up into a wide open lounge like area that many other hallways led into. The roof peaked up high into the air, a great chandelier hanging down, illuminating the area when it was dark. One side of the room was a giant window. It looked out over the forest green rolling hills of farmland that enveloped the Burrows. The neat rows of crops breezing in the cool morning air. Patches of oak trees spotted the mostly unbroken rows and fields, their shadows casting darkly below them. The room Judy was in lit up with the sunlight, the enormous flat wooden floor covered in cushioned mats. Chairs and tables lined the walls, and were arranged in small circles around the edges of the room. The other side from the window was a very flat wooden wall, its unexceptional color broken up by hundreds of pictures. It almost completely covered the wall in a chaotic pattern, sprawling over the wood like a cloud. In the middle was a painted portrait of her parents. Bonnie and Stu Hopps. Their matching fur and clothes stood out against the opaque background. Stu stood unusually tall, and you would think that is was purposefully flattering for the old bunny now, but he had at one point looked as proud and tall as was painted. His worn overalls hung on his broad frame, a dim gray t-shirt and a beaten blue baseball cap being the only other clothing. His large ears hung down behind him, flattened by the hat. Bonnie stood next to her husband, her hand wrapped around his arm. She smiled softly through the paint, her short tuft of white fur on her head too short to be anything more than a slight discoloration. She wore a warm simple dress, a canary yellow. A pearl necklace, an elegant silver bracelet, and her gigantic wedding ring being her only choice of jewelry. Judy had known other bunnies to load up their ears with beautiful and numerous piercings, but her mother was a simple rabbit. And she loved them both very much.

Below the hundreds of pictures and paintings, the staircase that led down to the foyer descended behind a stained oak railing. Going down would be easier than going up, at least. She positioned herself at the precipice of the stairway, and angled the suitcase so that it would be rolling backwards down the stairs. All she had to do was go slow, and the suitcase’s weight did all of the work for her. As she slowly descended the stairs, she looked out into the foyer at the more than 200 bunnies staring back at her. Bonnie and her husband Stu were standing in front of them, waiting with bated breath. She waved at everyone as she continued down the stairway. The foyer was large, large enough to allow for 275 rabbits to stand in without crowding. Massive chandeliers clung to the ceiling, their light seemed useless in the shade of the sunlight shining through two massive windows flanking the front door. Giant archways lead out into the many rooms of the first floor. Below the staircase Judy was currently descending, a hallway lead out towards the back of the building and to the kitchen. To the right of the front door, walking in, was an enormous dining hall. Enough tables and seats to fit everyone including guests. And across the foyer from that down a small flight of stairs was the living room. A great big dome shaped room that was indented slightly into the ground. An enormous standing fireplace stood in the middle. Chairs, couches, tables, electronics, everything you could think of to be in a living room was there, and then some. The entire area also had light hardwood floors, the walls a cool beige or in some places red brick like the exterior. All of the furniture or rugs held onto the Sunday color, with faded blues and oranges, yellows and greens. It was perfect. The home was like the nature that surrounded it. Bright, colorful and full to the brim with life. Too bad Judy was leaving it behind. She would miss balancing on the edges of riverbanks until the soil gave way and drenched her in the cool water, taking naps under the blissful oak trees that towered like umbrellas over the vibrant fields, and just having enormous picnics with her whole family, flying kites and rolling around in the soft grass. She would miss it all, for sure.

She came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and straightened out her suitcase. She left it upright as she leaped into the air at her parents, a happy expression taking over her face. Her father chuckled as he patted her on the back. “Okay, Jude, you all set?”

“Oh, I hope so!” She breathed into her mother’s neck and then halfway through changed to her father’s. “Man, I am going to miss you guys!”

“Now, Judy.” Her mother offered. “Don’t give your father any false hopes of you staying now. We need to get a move on if we want to beat the train!”

The goodbyes were long and drawn out. Judy had been tackled by more than 200 bunnies, and did not likely have it in her to fight them all off. Even if she was a police officer now. Still, Judy hugged all of her brothers and sisters she could, and made sure to cheer up all of the ones that didn’t want to see her go. It was as hard for Judy as it was for them, but she couldn’t show that. Judy had never been alone in her life, and being alone in the city was daunting at times. She would survive, though. Anything if it meant she could start making the world a better place. As she rolled her suitcase out of the front door and waved one last goodbye to all of her siblings, it pained her a little. She just felt numb to the fact that it was finally happening. After so much time and so much work, she had done it.

Stu helped her lift her bag into the back of the truck, and they all piled into the rusting blue farm truck. The old vehicle whined under the pressure of its passengers, and whined more at Stu trying to ignite it. After two tries, the engine finally roared to life. Before she knew it, they were off. The large building growing smaller as they drove on down the dirt road. She was likely not going to see it for some time. She had been away for almost five months when she went to the academy, but this time it felt different. Like this time, she was really leaving it behind. Judy sat on her knees looking out of the back window. Watching the house disappear behind the hills and oak trees. She let out a low hum. Trying to keep the picture of the house in her thoughts. 

“You’ll be back, Jude.” Her father spoke away from her as he watched the road. Stealing glimpses at her from the rear-view mirror. “You’ll do great. We know you will.”

Judy turned on the seat and slumped down, huffing. “Yeah, I know.”

“What’s the matter, Jude. I thought this is what you wanted.” Stu quickly met her dejected expression.

“It is!” Her eyes shot up to meet her father’s in the mirror. “I’m just anxious, is all.”

“You’ll do fine, hun.” Bonnie quipped as she glanced towards the back seat.

“Yeah!” Stu continued. “And when you find out that maybe police work is too dangerous, you can come right back here where you belong!”

“Stu!” Bonnie snapped. 

“What? It’s the truth! You know that city is no place for our little girl.”

Judy’s ears drooped as she glared out the window, emphatically trying to ignore her father’s words. She had been hearing them practically nonstop for weeks now, and did not want to hear them anymore. She fixed her gaze on the green fields and oak trees flying by, the morning sun rising higher in the air. Bunny Burrow was an incredibly tranquil place. The large oak trees and rolling fields of grass made for the best place Judy had ever seen. It was beautiful, in every way. Which was the problem. Judy couldn’t make the world a better place from her home in Bunny Burrow. It was too far away from everything. There was nothing she could fix or try to make better. The only thing you could say was wrong with the place is Judy had not seen one predator who lived there. Sure, she had seen plenty on her trips into the small towns in the area, but she never saw too many of them out here. They all lived in the city. Which was where she was needed. Precinct One. The city center. It was the largest Precinct of them all, right at the heart of Zootopia. And Judy was handpicked by the mayor for the position. She often could not contain how honored she was. 

The scenery flew past in silence. Nobody wanting to follow Stu’s remarks. Judy was fine with that, though. She enjoyed tracing the fences that lined the dirt road with her eyes. Focusing her vision so that they looked like beams floating in the air. When the fences broke away, she would trace the streams flowing next to the road. They slithered along the dirt path, dipping sometimes into metal drains buried in roads that lead of the one they were driving. Enormous plots of crops stuck close to the road. Their sharp angles played weirdly with Judy’s perspective. It was mostly Timothy Hay, a popular food for rabbits. Though most of them had grown accustomed to fresh green vegetables and fruits in their civilized ways, Timothy was still widely consumed. Often only at the behest of the many doctors of the Burrows. Maybe in a different life, Judy would have chosen to make the world a better place by convincing all bunnies it was good to eat grass. Not the most exciting thought.

Personally, Judy preferred berries and fruits over the stringy texture of Timothy’s, but she had eaten it all the same. It was good for her, after all, and she had to be working at her best for her new job. Judy started to wonder how many bunnies even lived in Zootopia, or whether she would be able to find a store close to her the sold Timothy. Maybe she should have packed some just in case. She doubted she could get her parents to send her a bale in the mail. Judy was sure there was plenty in the city. Probably. Hopefully.

The endless farmland started giving way to small buildings and farms packed closer together as they neared the train station. For a moment, Judy thought she would have just a little more time to watch the fields go by, but she was jolted by their entry into town. A small town with a small town aesthetic. Brick buildings pushed up against each other with shaped signs lined Main St. Old iron light poles stuck up from the newer sidewalk. A lot of mammals were out this morning, mostly bunnies. They had probably just got out of church, from the looks of their Sunday dresses and sharp suits. Many species walked the streets on Sunday mornings, shopping and eating while they were in town for the day. Pigs, deer, horses, goats, even a couple sheep. Still there were no predators in sight. She had not seen a tame collar since she left the academy, and that was on a janitor wolf. She thought that it might be weird to see more of them, but she didn’t think it was a bad thing. After all, Zootopia was a place everyone, regardless of species, could live together in harmony. That was the point of the collars in the first place, she thought to herself, pushing the pity out of her head. It was unbecoming for an officer to think like that. 

Judy watch the soft architecture pass by her eyes, still refusing to speak. Thankfully, her mind was full enough to allow her to drift out of alertness and passively admire the surroundings. The apartment she was going to be staying in was nothing like it. She had seen pictures of the sturdy complex on the internet. It sat on the east side of Zootopia’s beautiful downtown. A short subway ride away from her new job. The building was big, and angular, but she liked it all the same. A park stretched out from the base of the building, and though it was probably going to be nothing compared to the countryside, at least it would remind her of home. She was just so excited, she couldn’t wait. The neighborhood was nothing but artisan restaurants and stores nestled neatly into the bases of towering living complexes. She was just so thankful rent was so cheap for her, being a mammal of smaller stature. They could pack so many more floors and rooms into smaller buildings, it was amazing. Nothing she wasn’t used to, with her humble room back at home. Judy wondered if there would be any smaller predators living in her building. That would be exciting. Maybe she could finally start broadening her potential friendships. Judy loved meeting new people, and meeting a predator would be exceptionally new for her.

The old truck turned off of Main St. at the behest of its mature operator, complaining only with a low squeaking sound. She watched the prey animals laugh and smile as they walked down the sidewalk. She hoped it would look a lot like this in the city, just with taller buildings and a more diverse species base. That’s what she had seen in all of the pictures that she had. All of the videos and promotional pieces about the city from her time in school. It all looked so amazing. So many different animals, all living together in a beautiful city. She just couldn’t wait.

Suddenly, the truck slowed and turned into a wide lot lined with groomed trees and bushes. Stu maneuvered through the random assortment of vehicles already parked in the space, and took the closest space to a small blue building. It was flat and narrow, a thin, ridged tin roof sat at a low angle on the building. It was framed on the opposite side by an unkempt wilderness. The blue building silhouetted by a tangle of oak and green. The structure faced away from them, only windows lined this side. The entire thing was elevated on a sturdy wooden deck, ramps and stairways leading up and under a flat tin overhang that stretched from one side of the building all the way around to the train platform. 

Judy wasted no time by jumping out of the truck and waiting around the back for her father to help her with her bag. She was staring out into the distance when he rounded the edge of the bed, looking sadly at her. They silently lifted the bag out of the truck’s bed and placed it on the ground, Judy pivoting it upright so that she could grab the handle. The trio made their way towards the ramp up to the platform, Judy not wanting to repeat her fight with her own set of steps. As they reached the top of the ramp, the side of the narrow building came into view. It was a ticket booth nuzzled evenly into the side of the blue wood. An old bunny reading a newspaper sat just inside the booth, a low fan humming behind him. The wind brushed the fur on his ears lightly, exaggerating his plain looks. He was wearing an ordinary blue button up shirt and black slacks that rolled up against his knees and elbows. He glanced disinterestedly up from his paper. Seeing he had customers, her folded it neatly and patted it down on his desk. “Now what can I do for y’all, today?” He cheerfully offered, despite his tired expression a small slime cracked on his features. 

“We've got a ticket for the 9:45, Hester.” Stu lightly shot back, wandering slowly over to the booth. “You look hot today, sir. Don’t you got any water back there?”

“Oh, I do.” The old bunny slid back into his chair, elated at the company of a bunny he had known for decades. “But this darn heat is something to behold when you get older, just you wait Stu.”

Stu chucked at the ticket operator. “I’m afraid I ain’t got to wait as much as I want to.”

“Eh!” The old bunny threw his hand up in the air, apparently unsatisfied with his remark. “You think you’re old,” he went on. “You just wait Stu, my boy. And Bonnie! So good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Hester. I was just over at Martha’s the other day, but I missed you.” Bonnie said back and a light tone.

“I heard, I heard.” The old mammal shook his head in agreement, closing his eyes slightly. “Such a shame.” His gaze fell over her parents and towards Judy. He blinked for a second before a huge smile broke over his face. “Judy? Is that you? I darn sure mistook you for your sister!”

“Hey, Hester!” Judy waved at him crooking her head to the side, closing her eyes in a gentle smile. 

“Good lord, girl! You grew up faster than my old eyes could see. And does this mean you are here for that?” Hester leaned over his desk, closer to the three rabbits on the other side.

“Sure are!” Stu threw back, hooking his thumbs into his denim overall suspenders, shifting upwards as he rolled his weight on his big feet. “Can you believe it? Our little girl? Moving to the big city…” Stu stopped his rolling as his speech continued, exaggerating his distraught expression as he slumped.

The old bunny cackled at his junior of a good couple decades. Contorting so that his limbs were brought closer to his frame and his eyes shut tightly. His massive front teeth shone in the morning light as he fought to contain his amusement. “Now don’t go makin’ your daughter feel guilty now!” The old bunny chided Stu. “Your daughter’s got the sense in her to do what she wants; Lord knows any woman with that determination is a sight! My wife was just like you Judy, maybe if she was born the same time as you, you gals could have gone off to save lives together.” He smiled warmly at the grown up bunny. “Oh, but enough of my old mammal ways, let's get that ticket so I can stamp it.”

Judy hurriedly made her way to the edge of the booth and handed over her purple ticker. The older rabbit grabbed the piece of decoratively official cardstock, and brought it onto his desk. He effortlessly took a stamp in one hand without having to even look at it, and lifted a wooden compartment on his desk. The dark, wet substance on the inside glistening in the light. He smashed the wooden handle down into the substance and rolled the weight around in his hand. Satisfied, he retracted his hand and closed the compartment. With much ease, he stamped the handle down onto the cardstock that sat on his desk. When he lifted it up, an ornate railway symbol was on the paper in dark blue ink. He lifted it up into the air and shook it about for a second before handing it back to Judy. “Now, if you hear one more peep from your old man there, you just send him right over here and I’ll set him straight for you, alright?” He smiled as she took ticket from his grasp. 

“I will, Hester.” She leaned over the booth’s open window and hugged the old bunny tightly. “Thanks.” She breathed to him. 

Hester’s surprised expression quickly drew back to a soft shape. “And if any of them city mammals give you trouble, too. There will be no questioning the authority of Officer Hopps on my platform!”

Judy beamed down at the old mammal and laughed. They all waved goodbye and went to back around toward the platform proper. It was a flat station, covered completely in a simply framed tin overhang. The platform floor was entirely made of wooden decking except for the last couple feet to the train tracks, which was solid concrete. There were windows that lined the blue building even on this side, the only difference being a small door near the other end of the platform to the group. Iron and wood benches lined the building and between the beams keeping the tin roof up. Nobody else was waiting for the train. A lone wind chime hung near the front of the station, singing in the wind. Judy rolled her suitcase up to the benches closest to the tracks with her parents in tow. She stood still and stared right in front of her. Nothing but wilderness behind a graveled train track was in her gaze. Looking both directions, it was nothing but a seemingly endless track of steel rails, the wooden ties sticking slightly out of the heavy pink-and-purple-ish gravel. Framed on one side of the track was an overgrown tree line, and the other the quiet backs of small town buildings. The entire station was cast in vibrant colors and harsh shadows do to the rising sun. 

They stood in silence for a long time. Listening to the birds and the rustle of the trees in the wind. No one really had anything to say, and it drained the mood of the small group considerably. Judy wasn’t really that worried. She knew her parents were strong minded, but so was she. They could pout all they want; no amount of begging would get her to give up. She was always determined not to be the one to give in, even in the petty silence they found themselves in now. Some would call it resilient, but most of the mammals she knew that came from the city, and more than a couple police academy friends, had just taken to calling her ‘stubborn’. 

Just then, in the distance, a low rumbling could be heard followed by the loud horn of the passenger train heading towards them. Judy’s ears perked up at the sound, standing straight into the air. She let out an ‘ooo’ sound in the highest pitch she could muster. “It’s here,” she beckoned for her parents to look for the train soon to round the curve in the track to their left. 

Bonnie elbowed her husband in the side with an annoyed expression. He looked back at her incredulously, but soon wavered in his determination and cracked under his wife’s glare. “...Judy?” The aging bunny offered.

Judy turned to her father, her face still bright with anticipation. She was standing so upright, that even her small fluffy tail had come to attention. It stuck up into the air as fat as her tiny tailbone could allow. “Yeah?” She started after seeing her father’s expression and continue, “What’s up?”

“Well, it’s just that-” He stopped to scratch the back of his neck, looking down at the split between the concrete and the wooden deck. “You know we love you, right?” He shifted his gaze upwards, meeting her daughter's soft amethyst eyes. They glowed in the light, looking like crystals surrounding her deep black pupils. 

She moved towards her parents, leaving her suitcase where it was. “Of course I know that.”

Stu sighed at the situation. “I just don’t want you to think we’re not so very proud of you, Judy. Hester is right. You had what it takes to follow your dreams, and that’s something special.” His face grew sad at the realization that their time was quickly coming to an end as the train rounded the curve with another blast from its horn. “I just want you to know that no matter what you want to do, we will always support you. No matter what it is.”

Judy’s eyes almost teared up at the words her father was saying, and she threw herself into his arms. “Thank you.” He said overjoyed. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

Stu chuckled, obviously uncomfortable at the sentimental atmosphere. He patted his daughter on the back a good couple times before he broke the hug. Quickly changing subject, he went on, “Okay, are you sure you have everything you need?” He stuck his paws at his hips, eying Judy. 

“Yeah, I got it all.”

“That’s good, but just in case your mother and I packed you a bag for your trip.”

“Oh! Is there any Timothy in there?” Judy beamed at her father.

Stu’s brow furrowed and looked between Judy and his wife. “Wha- Timothy?” He settled on an almost offended stare. “No, I did not pack grass in your very special care package,” he shot back. His eyes thick with disdain for the plant. He had taken to green vegetables for a long time. Mostly carrots. All of that sugar was surely contributing to his diminishing physical ability. Bonnie rolled her eyes. “No I got you something way better than grass.” Stu added a little extra hate to that second ‘grass’. He rummaged through the bag for a short time and pulled out what looked like a blow horn. “This!”

Judy looked at the pink blow horn for a moment, not sure what it was. For a moment Judy didn’t know what to make of it until she looked more closely. It had the appearance of a blow horn, but it was actually a spray can with a cone on the end of the actuator. The logo on the side had a simple black picture of a fox with a red cross going through it. The caption on the can read ‘Fox Away’ with a smaller caption harder to see reading ‘maximum volume’ between two stars. Judy’s jaw fell open and she looked at her father incredulously. Her eyes lidded in disbelief. “Dad.” She started, “I do not need fox deterrent.”

“Oh, yes you do honey, foxes are dangerous! It’s in their DNA!” Stu fired back at his defensive daughter with a stern look, stuffing the can back into the bag and searching for something else. The train still coming closer, its slowing movement making the last legs of the journey more drawn out. 

“Yea-Actually, your father’s got a point there, sweetheart.” Her mother’s sweet expression falling away to worry. “They’re the worst!” Judy cringed at her mother’s face at it contorted into complete disgust. 

“And then you have this!” Stu held up another picking container, this time being closer to a perfume bottle than anything. The same logo and captions read out on the smaller bottle. “This is fox repellent! You spray just a little bit in their direction, and they’ll go running for the hills for sure.” Judy did not like the excited expression taking hold of her father, and she certainly did not like the tone of this conversation. Her nose has started twitching in annoyance. 

“Okay, yeah. The deterrent and the repellent, that’s safe to have.” Bonnie chimed in, agreeing wholeheartedly with her husband. 

Judy could not believe her parents. She had never even spoken to a fox before, and had barely seen maybe six in her whole life. Why on earth would she need all of this junk? Stu stuck his hand in one more time and started again, “And wait ‘till you get a look at this-!” Stu pulled out a pink box shape and clicked the electronic to life. A bright arcing electric current pulled out of the two metal prongs and buzzed threateningly. 

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Bonnie jumped in her spot, surprised at the lightshow of arcing electricity. The train was almost at a stop now; the whistle would sound any second. 

“Dad! What the heck would I need a fox taser for? Those could really hurt someone!” Judy’s nose was now spasming wildly. Twitching so fast that it practically vibrated.

“What are you talking about, Jude? Those shifty devils get a kick from their collars all the time, they’re probably used to it I’ll bet.” Stu offered disinterestedly as he stuck it back into the bag.

Judy could not believe her parents. She furrowed her brow and squinted irritably at her father. “A shock could set off their collars and make it incredibly painful, Dad! We were told in the academy to only use tranquilizers on predators at the risk of blowing up their hearts.”

Stu stared at his daughter blankly. Apparently he did not grasp what the problem was with that. “Well, all the same, just take them would you? It’d go a long way to calming your mother and I down.”

She did not want to take it. It was almost like accepting that a fox taser wasn’t the most egregious thing she had ever heard of. It was practically a gun to them. Judy’s nose twitched incessantly now. Tasing a smaller predator had the tendency of burning out the electronic sensors in their collars. Causing the things to send them into a cardiac arrest. She was so angry she couldn’t even see straight. Judy pulled the bag out of her father’s hands and stormed over to a garbage can. Pulling out the fox taser, she threw it on the ground, stomping it into bits. She picked up the pieces of the pink box and threw it straight into the garbage. Judy turned around to the astonished faces of her parents. Breathing, she straightened out her frame and walked back over to the dumbfounded mammals. “Next time, why don’t you just get me a gun?” Judy shot at her father, clicking her tongue on her two enormous front teeth.

Stu shifted uncomfortably in place. The whistle blew, and the doors of the train swung open. “We just want you to be safe, Judy.” He looked at his feet.

Judy sighed. “I know-” She started as her nose began to calm down, “You just can’t get stuff like that, Dad. The predators are already kept in check by their collars. That’s why they wear them in the first place.”

Stu glanced at the open train doors. “I guess,” he offered dejectedly. 

Judy’s vision moved from her parents and the door. She took a deep breath in and watched them. “I guess this is where I get on the train, huh?”

Bonnie smiled at her daughter. “Yes, it is, honey.”

Judy threw her arms wide and flew into her parents, taking extra care to kiss her dejected father first. “I love you guys,” she breathed into their necks. Nuzzling deeply into them.

“We love you, too.” Her mother assured. 

Judy broke from their grasp and made her way to her luggage quickly. She pulled the laptop bag onto her shoulder, picked up the “care package”, grabbed the handle of her massive suitcase, and practically jogged into the train. She turned to her parents just as the doors were closing, and pressed herself up against the glass. They stood in each other’s arms, Stu looking infinitely more distraught than his wife, who was currently consoling him at the same time as waving at Judy. She kept them in sight as long as she could as the train lurched into motion, waving bye herself. She let out a pained “bye” just as they were gone from her sight to an empty trail car.

She was now alone in a moving train. She didn’t really know if there were passengers in the other cars, but it felt that way regardless. The train car was large for her, being the size of a rabbit. It could cater to animals as big as an elephant and as tall as a giraffe. The train itself of a metallic bronze and yellow mix, one of the more modern bullet train models. The platform she currently stood on was a dip that met the level of the stations, lower than where all the seats were. The slope that led up the dip and onto the main level of the train was striped in a black grip tape over silver metal floors. It was cold on her bare feet, the cool air blowing on the train as it barreled through the countryside made sure of that. The main level comprised mostly of rows of seats, all different sizes and shapes to allow for any kind of mammal passenger. Luggage compartments overhead would be an impossibility for Judy’s suitcase, so she opted to bring it up with her to the top level. A dome-like area that was glass on all sides, allowing for you to peer out into the racing country as the train flew through it all. A smooth, simple railing clung around the entire edge. It was a specialty, as only one car on the entire train had the second level. Which was the reason Judy had bought a ticket this class. There was no staircase to get up there, because there just wasn’t enough room to build enough staircases to accommodate every size. Instead, the designers built an elevator at the back of the compartment, the doors flanking it led into the other cars behind it. Judy wasted no time in rolling her luggage over the ridged metal floors, and into the elevator. 

It was a plain cylinder shape, big enough for the largest of mammals, but not really tall enough. Judy imagined if there were any giraffes that used these trains, they would just buy tickets for the extra tall cars, not the double decker ones. The panel to control the elevator was actually an incredibly sleek black bar running the entire height of the elevator. It was a quasi-touch-screen, which was really just a motion sensor blind as could be unless you swiped your paw across the bar directly. Since the elevator only had two places to could go, it really only needed one input. It was originally built so you could just wave your hand without having to touch anything, but Judy guessed that must not have worked out for whatever reason. An assortment of horizontal scratched were left in the wall across the black bar. Mammals with long claws generally trimmed them to duller points for the sake of convenience if nothing else, but they were often still tough enough to scratch metal and plastic. One of the reasons her home in Bunny Burrow had such worn floors. The hundreds of tiny little nails running over it all throughout the day and night. Judy placed her paw on the wall of the elevator and swiped it across the bar when she had gotten her luggage situated. An electric tune played over a speaker at the top of the lift, the hum of the doors closing followed it shortly after.

The lift lurched into a vertical movement, making Judy sway in the motion. The whirring of the lift’s mechanism could be heard for a short time as the elevator ascended. It stopped after a very short couple seconds. Another tune played over the speaker as the doors slid into motion, moving around a circular pivot so that the door entered inside the rest of the cylinder. Judy stepped out into the elongated dome. It wasn’t really a dome, but another cylinder, this time horizontal, capped off by a couple quarter spheres on both ends. Judy just liked calling it ‘the dome’ because it made her feel like she was in some kind of sci-fi flick where a bunch of sheep scientists would look out of a clear dome into an alien world. A silly notion, especially when you consider that this world was far from alien to her. Sure, she hadn’t really spent any time in any of the large cities, but it couldn’t be all that different. Judy stepped out of the elevator and into the encased glass room. It was empty save for a lone book sat discarded on the ground near the front of the train. It was almost disorientating to see how fast she was going now in the transparent encloser. 

Judy opened one of the vertical luggage compartments attached around the base of the elevator’s frame and stuck all of her stuff in there. Taking care to set her laptop bag in a position that would crush it if the train made any sudden moves. She also threw he “care package” into the compartment after thumbing through the rest of the items in the bag. A couple snacks; A Tupperware full of a number of different kinds of berries and fruits, a handful of loose oranges and apples, and another Tupperware full of an ordinary salad with Romaine lettuce, spinach, carrots, tomatoes, and sliced bell peppers. She would probably eat all of that before the train would even arrive at Zootopia, which would be an almost nine-hour train ride. She huffed and made her way to the front of the car. Looking out down the track the train was flying over at immense speeds. The rolling countryside and patchy wilderness leading her way.

It was loud in the train, but on the second level, it was almost like the only thing you could hear was the wind. It wrapped around the train’s frame, flowing like rushing rapids over its back. A constant torrential sound enveloped the glass cylinder, filling the silent room with foreign noise. Judy stuck her elbows up onto the railing, crossing her wrists under her chin to rest her head. She had a peaceful, lidden expression. Gratefully taking in the sights of the flowing land, she breathed in and closed her eyes. She exhaled in a warming mood, relaxing her muscles against the shine of the sun. Maybe after some time, she would go back down to the first floor and settle into a seat, open up her laptop, and watch some movies or something. Right now, she was just fine where she was.

It occurred to Judy that this was how she was going to spend the majority of her time away from the force. In a quiet, enclosed space assaulted by noise on all fronts, trying desperately to pass the time alone. She was secretly dreading that prospect. It would be too much of a dramatic shift after living at home. Maybe she would make friends quickly. She could only hope. Spending all of her free time in a dusty apartment that barely even had a kitchen was not something she really planned on doing. After all, the only thing on her mind when she decided to move to Zootopia was making the world a better place. Not how to spend her time away from the work. Despite all of that, she was hopeful nonetheless. This was just another thing she could deal with if it meant following her dream. Taking up some solitary hobby couldn’t be all that bad. Which made Judy’s eyebrows furrow in thought. She didn’t even know of any solitary hobbies besides maybe reading and knitting like her grandmother used to do. It completely escaped her. Was she just going to watch movies all the time? She guessed between her morning jogs, work, and cooking food there really wasn’t a lot of time in the day to do anything special, so she could very well just take a little extra work home with her? That seemed dramatic. Not to mention a good way to dampen her productivity. She would just have to find something. She’s going to be in the city for a long time, she doesn’t have to find it right away.

Judy watched the features of the land roll by, not focusing on anything in particular. The sun was rising higher into the air now, the slightly orange tinted glass being her only protection from the rays. It was rounding July already. The sweltering heat was beginning to fall short. Soon, it would be fall, and then winter. Judy did not doubt the first couple weeks wouldn’t drag on, but after that it would be no time at all before she was coming back for the holidays. By that time, she would know what to do with herself for sure. She couldn’t rightly come back home and tell them she did literally nothing but work. Her mother would be mortified. 

Judy glanced down at the book that sat idly on the floor and wondered who might have left it. Curiosity taking the better of her, she bent unhooked herself from the railing and moved over to it. She bent down and turned it over so that she could read the title. It read “The Prey Inside: How to Never Get Shocked Again”, which struck Judy as odd. It was written in bold, red letters under the black and white portrait of some aspiring sophisticate. It was of a tiger sitting comfortably on a wingback chair, looking happily into the eyes of the reader. He was wearing some bizarre mix of business casual and straight casual. She smoothed out the well-used paper cover to read who the author was. “By Arthur Thomas Greer” was the extent of the information on the front. It claimed to be a bestseller, or so the worn sticker desperately tried to read, but Judy thought it odd a self-help book would make the top of anything. Let alone a sales list. Her nose started twitching in confusion. Why would someone leave this behind? She thought to herself, they must have really gotten their use out of this thing. I mean, look at it. Judy was right. The book had been thumbed through countless times if the condition had anything to say. Folded corners and placeholders stuck out of the pages, different colored sticky notes hung dejectedly, beaten to a sad state. She turned it over and read the synopsis:

Arthur Thomas Greer illustrates, with this simple book, the importance of awakening every predator’s ‘inner prey’. Let go of your irritation by participating in simple thought and breathing exercises with Greer’s insightful words. Do you never want to be shocked again? Does your tame collar feel heavier than it used to? Not a problem, just take Greer’s methods and apply them to your everyday life! You will finally know what it’s like to live like prey, and never get shocked again! With this book you’re going to be the calmest mammal on the block!

Judy stared at the paragraph, not sure what to make of it. The reviews plastered on the back for promotional purposes were equally as uninspired. With things like “A real lifesaver”, “I’ll never live life the same way”, and “I’ve read this book, and haven’t been shocked since” Judy couldn’t help but have her opinion of the book fall even lower. It was as bad as bad marketing got, with cherry picked “reviews”, a sales pitch of a synopsis, and it obviously being an ego piece, it was a wonder how someone had spent so much time with the book. Judy straightened back up to a standing position, still holding the book. She thumbed through the pages, searching for the merit that its previous owner so unwaveringly believed it possessed. The book was not just well used, it started to seem. The entire book was annotated. Notes of all kinds were written on the edges of the pages. Some paragraphs were circled or underlined, while others were completely scratched out. The vibrantly colored sticky notes had long since lost their stick, instead being held onto the book by scotch tape. The pages they sat on contained seemingly important information, or so they must have believed. It didn’t look like anything special to Judy. Not much more than the breathing exercises and overly poetic anecdotal diatribes. 

Judy just couldn’t wrap her head around why someone would care so much about the book. It was odd to her. She didn’t particularly think anything of it when she thumbed back to page one and began reading. She just wanted to see if she was missing something. Paragraph after paragraph fell down her eyes, as she read what could have easily been the biggest ego piece she had ever read. It just kept going on and on about his personal experience, and Judy was about to shut the book in frustration when one of Greer’s long diatribes finally got to the point, “You see, the prey will never understand because they are prey. Not predators. It’s easy to blame them for allowing such a system to thrive and flourish in the modern age, but what could have been expected of them? We are, after all, killing machines. No amount of fancy jewelry is going to fix that. Only we can. Each one of us, individually. In our own way. What I am talking about when I say things like ‘release your inner prey’, you can rest assured I am not talking about becoming meek and fearful animals. I am talking about learning how to sate the nagging sensation in the back of our skulls. The hunger. The will. The strength to make those desires come true. Learn to be content with our peaceful lives. When someone raises a fist to strike you down, do not show them you are strong by striking them right back. Show them you are strong by allowing yourself to get struck down, and then get back up again. Never stop getting up. It is only when a proud mammal gives up, and lies down to die, has the collar well and truly won.”

Judy stared blankly at the page. She honestly did not know what to make of that. Still, it came a way explaining why some mammal had cared so much about this book. There was an earnestness behind the inflated ego. Perhaps Judy did not agree that predators were fighting the collars in the way described, but she saw the sliver of a merit she was searching for. The only problem is it brought more questions than it was able to solve. Why would they leave it behind? Did they lose it? How long had the book been there? She did not know the answer to any of those questions, but she was sure that whoever had left it behind was missing it. It wasn’t likely they would just brush off the loss of an item of theirs they had obviously cared so deeply about. Judy decided that she was going to ask the conductor or the car attendant if she ever saw one. It was unlikely there would be one. The rail system had moved to a mostly automated system some time ago. You could call for an attendant or a security guard by pressing a large button near the back of each car, but most of the time the compartments were just monitored from the back of the train in the security office. Black domed security cameras were a common sight on trains and busses these days.

Judy nestled down by the glass wall, finding a comfortable position by crossing her legs and leaning back into the cool glass. She had started reading the book in earnest now, following the annotations and notes written hurriedly next to the neat lines of text. She had settled so hard into the activity that the slow passage of time was lost on her, the sun rising further into the sky, crossing the precipice of its midday height, and falling back towards the horizon. The countryside stretching in all directions following her way. The rolling hills had given way to the flattest land you could imagine, the single solid color of whatever crop was planted in the enormous fields breezed in the wind far beyond what she could see. The only thing that broke up the solid mass was lone trees reaching high into the air and in all directions, and lone farming complexes complete with cozy houses and massive silos. Not that she was particularly spending a lot of time perceiving her surroundings. She had taken to making small glances out of the transparent walls when she got up to stretch her legs. Clicking the kinks out of her joints as she walked the edge of the room. She had nearly finished the book completely by the time she had noticed how late in the day it was getting. She looked at her watch, nose twitching, to see how much time she had spent reading. It was almost three in the afternoon.

Judy thought it was probably a good idea to take a break from reading, and returned to her spot in the front of the glass cylinder. The country had changed quite drastically from her oaken home of grassy knolls and tranquil rivers when it flattened out, but since then it had seemed like it had not changed a single bit. And that was nearly three hours ago. The farmland that surrounded her was vast and entirely filled with fields of greens and golden yellows. A small paved road ran the length of the track to her right, power lines hung from old wooden beams on the other side. It was plain. Monochromatic in the atmosphere. Judy found it hard to believe the mammals out here didn’t get bored of the surrounding environment. 

Watching the fields go by, Judy drifted into thinking about the book again. More importantly, she was thinking about the article she had read that morning. The exposé she had read after her shower. Lain May was doing a number of pieces on predators suffering from PMD. A sad disease that made predators afraid of their collars. It was so horrible to Judy that so many innocent mammals were being afflicted with such a terrible illness. The story she read this morning was about an otter that nearly drowned in the Iles River because he got shocked while he was swimming. After the warning shock shook the small carnivore, he was sent into a series of small panic attacks that grew worse in severity the more panicked he became. It was a miracle he was able to make it to shore so that he could call 911. If it had been any worse, the current could have dragged the helpless mammal down beneath the waves. 

The book must belong to someone who was having trouble with their collar, Judy thought. Maybe they are suffering from PMD and this is how they are able to remain calm, or so she thought. The notes and annotations really didn’t add credibility to that theory, as they were mostly about staving off frustration and irritation in different circumstances, but Judy did not pay any particular attention to them. She had already really decided on what she believed the book was being used for, and intended to try her hardest to find the owner. She was really worried that there was a predator out there that was lost without their therapeutic aid. More than anything she was really irritated that the author was using the horrible disease to inflate her ego. How could he? Taking advantage of the problems the world faced and using his platform to besmirch the collars. The tame collars were there for more than just making sure predators didn’t hurt anyone. That was obscene. No modern mammal, predator or otherwise, was being kept in check by negative reinforcement. The collars were there to protect the predators as much as the people around them. After all, Judy thought. If they don’t keep their collars on, they could start going savage. They could lose their minds! Judy was horrified at the thought. Not really about how much damage they could do, but because they could lose themselves. It was scary a thought as dying to Judy. Even scarier knowing that they could hurt the people they love in the process. 

Judy watched the land. She was determined. The world might seem scary to most people, but Judy knew just how beautiful it could be. She was going to try her hardest to make it better for everyone. She couldn’t cure PMD, but maybe she could take some classes on how to calm predators down if they ever got like that. That might be something she could learn to help make a difference, she was sure of it. If nothing else, she could take what was in the book and try to use that. Judy looked down at the worn text. When she found the book’s owner, she was going to have a lot of questions for him. She just hoped they’d want to talk about it. Judy sure did.

She stared back out of the glass. The landscape would be changing soon, the hills returning. Then growing larger and into mountains. The deciduous oak would be replaced with the towering evergreens that shoot straight into the air. She had already seen a few pine trees lining the road. She was coming closer to the mountainous coastline. The train ride had taken her southwest, straight through the flat land. It would curve southward and meet up with the coastline before continuing its journey west to avoid the mountains. It was only a matter of time, now. Even so, the last legs of any journey always feel the longest. She had just hoped that meant the last legs of the train ride. Say nothing of the station, the taxi, arriving at her apartment, or unpacking to get up early the next day. She was exhausted by the thought. Judy hoped that she would be too tired to really have her first night alone sink in. Even in the academy, she had roommates. I won’t be alone, she chided herself. I’ll be in a building full of people. Random strangers, sure. But people? Her reassurance did little to reassure. 

Truth be told, Judy was right. It wasn’t long before her view had changed dramatically. The pine forests that enveloped every inch of the rocky hills were beautiful in the late afternoon sun. The dusty farm houses had faded away some miles ago, the dreary coastal abodes that took their places not nearly as comfortable looking. Building were becoming a regular thing, small towns stretching for more and more miles. From Judy’s vantage point in the train, she could tell that they were getting closer and closer to Zootopia, the mythic city of her dreams. She yelped in the empty glass room, pinching herself at the usage of the word ‘mythic’. If nothing was going to stand in her way, that also included jinxing herself into the city not existing. Far over the coated pine hills, she could see the glistening of the ocean. The dark water reflecting the light blue color of the sky.

She was getting excited now. Her foot thumped on the metal floor of the train, anxiety taking hold. Her nose was twitching, too. She stood in a perfectly straight line, her arms tight against her side and fists balled outward. She had lifted her chin up as high into the air so that she could glimpse the first sight of the beautiful city as soon as she could. Her big front teeth gripped her bottom lip as she chewed on it, too excited to contain herself.

The first thing she saw was Zootennial Stadium, or “Animalia” as it was colloquially called. The largest building Judy had ever seen in her life; she could clearly see it all the way from the train. It sat right on the bit of land where the Iles River and the ocean met, sprawling comfortable suburbs surrounded it. Massive patches of land covered in gray rooftops and heavy vegetation. It was beautiful. They sat on the land like angular paintings, flanked with trees on all sides. Cozy streets crisscrossed the quiet neighborhoods, and long spearmint green golf courses billowed through it all. They were bordered completely by planted oaks and pines all around them, some parks of natural forest spotted it all. Finally, as the mountains rolled out of the way, the skyscrapers came into view. Towering structures of glass and steel, they took Judy’s breath away. They were so tall, they almost matched the height of the rock face the city was backed up against. They were all different shapes and size, some of the tallest ones closest to the middle. The base of the enormous city scape tapered off, growing smaller the further away from downtown you got. With no amount of words could Judy describe just how big the city was. It was almost unreal. And she was just seeing half of it. The acclimatized districts and the Docks on the other side of the river were out of sight, hidden behind the large parks and supremely gigantic buildings. She could not believe it. 

The train turned a curve and started heading northwest, towards downtown. From Judy’s spot, she could see everything now. The Iles River. The beautiful and enormous trees and vegetation of the Rainforest district. The cold looking sharp peaks of Tundratown. The low, industrial setting of the Docks. It was all wonderful to her eyes. Unbelievable. It almost put her into shock it was so overwhelming. Unbeknownst to her, Judy’s nose had been twitching nonstop for a solid twenty minutes as she watched the breathtaking view. To think this was where she was going to be living for the foreseeable future. It was unreal. The stupidest expression of pure bewilderment had set itself into Judy’s features, and was not going to go away no matter what she tried to do. 

It did not take long for the train to arrive at the central station of Zootopia. A flat, glass and steel building of immense size. The train had entered the station from elevated tracks, freeways stretching in all directions below her. Zootopia’s Central Station was nothing to shake a stick at. Saying it was immense was an understatement of an egregious nature. The cylindrical building was massive, the roof completely made of a curving glass. It was made out of limestone and steel, the sometimes sharp sometimes rounded architecture stood out of the bustling streets, the entire station filled to the brim with busy mammals heading in all numbers of direction. It was a pale beige color, accentuated by green outlining. The main room of the station was easily the largest enclosed space Judy had ever been in. Rows and rows of tracks fed into the completely open back wall, coming into alcoves sandwiched in tiled walkways for passengers to freely exit and enter the trains. The walkways all headed out toward the front of the building, a station with formidable infrastructure to cater to any patron’s every need. Didn’t matter the species. At the front of the enormous building was a stained glass mural of simple tree designed and stone pillar reaching all the way up the arcing ceiling. The archways and curves of the ceiling decorated with almost Victorian quality. Studded and printed with the most intricate and grand designs Judy thought possible. The plain color did nothing to inform on the absolute scale of the building. She was breathless at her vantage point, distracted from her task of collecting her belongings from the locker. 

She stole every glimpse she could, almost pained to leave the second floor of the train. Judy hurriedly made her way into the elevator and swiped the black bar with her paw before she had even come to a stop. The train was slowing to a crawl. And second the powerful vehicle would stop and the doors would open. She tapped her foot nervously as the elevator made its slow journey down. She was chewing on her lip again; her ears fell down her neck past her shoulder blades. She had practically started moving before the elevator opened, pulling her heavy suitcase behind her. Her laptop bag and care package hanging off her shoulders and the copy of “The Prey Inside” fluttering as she held onto its spine. She had just made her way down the taped ramp when the train came to a complete stop, the familiar tune playing over the car’s speakers. Just as the doors opened, she was out onto the tiled pathway that stood at the same height as the train car’s floor. Green iron benches and antique looking street lights stood in alternating fashion down the pathway towards the stairs that led up to the station proper. She was making her way through the bustle of mammals toward the front of the train. 

Just as she was nearing her target, a tired looking ram stepped down off of the engine car, fishing something out of his pocket. “Excuse me,” Judy called to the ram. He looked up at the approaching rabbit inquisitively. She was waving the book in the air at the mammal she assumed to be the conductor, smiling widely at him.

“Oh, hello ma’am.” The ram spoke in a calm, disinterested tone. He was wearing a dark blue, collared short-sleeve shirt tucked into his black pants. They were noticeably wrinkled, disheveled in a couple places. “How can I help you?”

Judy came to a stop in front of him, beaming up at him with a friendly and excited expression. “I don’t mean to take up your time, sir,” she began. “But are you the conductor?” Her body language was exaggerated in earnest, but not fake by any means. She meant every inquisitive shoulder shrug and waving of the book.

“That’s right,” he spoke back, not offering anything else. He waiting for what she wanted to say next.

“It’s just that I found this book up on the observation deck, and I wanted to know where the lost and found was or if you know how I could get it back to its owner?” Judy was sincere in her speech, prompting the ram to relax his posture and smile at her.

“Sure, just let me see what kind of book it is you have there.” Judy smiled at him and handed it out to him, the cover clearly showing. The ram regarded it for a second, expressionless. After a short time, he glanced back up into her eyes and regarded her, and then back down at the book. Slowly, his expression turned. His face soured in thought. “Ah,” he spoke at last. “Don’t bother, miss. The owner of that book won’t miss it.”

Judy’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” She asked, pulling the book back towards her defensively. “It’s kinda obvious that they cared for it. Why wouldn’t they miss it?”

“Well, the owner ain’t coming back any time soon. We don’t get many passengers that would be carrying around something like that, and the last one we had is probably warming a prison cell right now.”

Judy just stared at the conductor, her mind not wrapping around the words that were spoken to her. “What?”

“Aggravated assault, it was. I saw the security footage myself. The only thing that kept that scum from hurting that poor woman was that blessed collar.”

Judy fixed her glance on the book, and the back towards her conductor as he went on. “Yes, ma’am. If I was to be forthright, I would tell you that I don’t think we should even let those scoundrels ride the trains. They’re nothing but trouble, they are.” The ram glanced back up the station’s entrance, looking at the large clock that sat in the middle of the glass mural. He was more concerned with what time it was than the hateful speech flowing out of his mouth. “You needn't worry about returning that book, miss.” He continued, turning back at the bewildered Judy. “From the footage I’ve seen, it didn’t help him much.”

Judy tried to ignore the things she was hearing, forcing a friendly smile. She breathed a laugh, if the ram was paying attention, he would have been able to hear the pained tone behind it. “You wouldn’t have a name regardless, would you?” She questioned. 

The ram looked Judy over. The traveling mammal had more luggage clung to her than she was big herself, looking more like a pack mule than a rabbit. “Can’t say that I cared to remember.” He sighed at her, “Look, miss. You should really just throw that useless thing in the garbage where it belongs. Ain’t no such thing as the ‘prey inside every predator’. It just ain’t right.” The conductor turned his body from Judy, walking away while still looking in her direction. “Now if you excuse me-” Was all he said as he disappeared into the crowd of mammals walking about. 

Judy stood in disbelief, still clutching the book and looking in the direction the ram had disappeared in. She was starting to pick up a common theme for the day. The implication that the owner of the book was shocked by their collar because of an argument or something of the sort bothered Judy. Why would that have happened? Were they not suffering from PMD, and in fact just had anger management issues? If that was the case, what had provoked them? Judy now officially did not know what to think, and was stuck on a busy platform with a book in her hand. Her ears flopped down behind her, the expression taking an irritated shape. She puffed out her cheeks in frustration and blew into the air. I guess it’s mine now, she thought to herself. I’m not going to just throw it away. Suddenly embarrassed, Judy glanced around to make sure no predators were in earshot of her conversation. She came to realize that she couldn’t see a single predator in the station. Not one tame collar in the entire crowd of hundreds. Well, he did say they didn’t ride the trains often. She continued her thought, But I thought I’d see more. I wonder where they all are?

Judy took a moment to stuff the book she was now stuck with in her care package, and started moving again. Taking care not to get stepped on by the myriad of enormous mammals that walked all around her. Reaching the end of the platform path, she turned her attention to the giant staircase in her way. No way she would be taking that. Instead, she moved around towards the escalator on the right side of the station. It was easy enough to roll her suitcase onto the moving slabs of metal, still minding her surroundings so that she wasn’t crushed by the towering animals. She had been around tall mammals in the past, especially at the academy, but never this many. It was almost like she had to make a conscious effort to not get stepped on. Her excited expression returned to her as she neared the top of the escalator, the sour conversation leaving her mind.

Once on street level, she made her way directly for the open front doors that lead out into the busy sidewalk beyond. She would need to hail a cab to get to her apartment. She wasn’t about to walk there. Before she could scan the street side for waiting cabs, her breath was taken away from her once again. Zootopia’s many skyscrapers looked even bigger from up close. Especially to a bunny. Looking out over the plaza that sat in front of Central Station, building rose further up in the air than Judy could dream of back home. Looking straight up from the base of one of them could very well make her faint. They were almost so big up close that she almost could comprehend it. Like looking at a photo or a painting. Returning her eyes downwards to the ground, the plaza that sat in front of her was gorgeous. Cement sidewalks crisscrossed in an angular cut of trees and flower beds, the vegetation groomed to expert levels. In the middle was a granite fountain, a statue of a cheetah and a gazelle hand-in-hand on the top. It was just a beautiful as she thought it would be. The distinct lack of the implied cheetah side of the statue in the square and the surrounding streets and sidewalks was lost on her in the moment. She was too busy marveling at it all.

Finally calming herself down, she hurried over to the closest cab, a casually dressed beaver with a golf hat leaned up against it. He helped her put her bags in the trunk of the taxi, and they were off in the direction of her apartment in no time. The beaver wasted no time speeding through traffic. She was likely his fiftieth passenger for the day, and made no attempt at conversation. He just made his way through traffic at a decent pace, paying little attention to the rules of the road. It made Judy’s nose twitch again. She had not seen anyone drive so recklessly in her life, and had certainly not been in the same car as someone who cared so little about the regulations of driving on public streets. His violations were the worst kind. Ambiguous. So even if she did inform the beaver that she was an officer of the law, and he had to follow the rules, he wasn’t technically breaking any. Being a rude person was unfortunately not against the law.

She decided to distract herself from the recklessness of her chauffeur, and watch the mammals on the sidewalk. It was a Sunday evening, so it was decently filled. Nothing like it would be after work hours ended, she reminded herself. Still, Judy was curious. She wanted to see how many predators were in the crowds. She scanned the random assortment of prey for any signs of tame collars, but still she couldn’t see any. Just prey. Maybe there was some kind of popular predator TV show on right now? Judy couldn’t wrap her head around it. It looked nothing like all of the pictures she had seen of the city.

The ride thankfully wasn’t long. It was a short trip from Zootopia’s largest train station to the apartment complex she was moving into. It was nestled just on the outside of downtown, southeast of the giant buildings. The ram had parked the car just outside of it, on the edge of the street. Judy quickly paid the fair and hopped out of the taxi which had been very big for her. The ram got out to help her remove the suitcase from the trunk, probably convinced that she would not be able to do it on her own. He sped off down the busy street with a bored “Have a good day,” and Judy was left standing on the sidewalk covered in luggage and holding the handle of a suitcase several sizes too big for her. She turned her attention across the street that was lined with parked cars, out into the small knoll of trees and pathways. The park wasn’t large, and resembled the square that sat in front of the train station she had just left more than a forest of any description. Pairs and groups of prey strolled around, easing into the surroundings comfortably. Judy spun on the spot, looking up at the building she would be living in. It was bigger than she expected, like most of the city. Probably around fifteen stories tall, but bunny stories. No larger animals would be able to maneuver around the small hallways and doorframes inside. It would have been an impossibility. Judy thought that only medium sized cops like sheep or goats would even be able to enter the establishment. It was a wonder how they managed to keep the city safe when a lot of it was completely inaccessible to most of the force. 

It’s a good thing small prey like us aren’t likely to make trouble, she thought to herself. She started moving for the front door, pulling her suitcase along with one hand, and holding onto the straps hanging off her shoulder with the other. She smiled widely as she entered the building through a pair of glass doors, slowing down when she entered the lobby. On her right, hung on a rather old looking wall, hung a collection of brown painted metal boxes. They all had different numbers printed on them, likely making them the mailboxes. The wall stretched up further down the room, coming to an end at the base of a staircase leading upwards. Next to the staircase, on the plain wall to the left of it from where Judy stood, an elevator sat idly, the doors shut. On the left side of the room, was a sort of sitting area. Old couches and chairs flanked by worn out side tables sat covered in dust. The floor in the lobby was covered in a beige tile. A number of doors lead to unseen room on either side of the room. A reception desk sat unoccupied next to the elevator facing the front door. An old wooden frame pressed into the wall behind it, a curtain of beads hanging down, obscuring the room beyond. 

Judy made her way to the receptionist desk, and looked over it. Thankfully, because the building was built for people of Judy’s size in mind, she did not have to stand on the tips of her toes to see over the desk. Instead she just stood comfortably, the desk coming just above her elbows. She scanned the desk for anything to call for an attendant, and her gaze settling on a small metal dome with a nail-like shape sticking out of the top. Judy rung the bell and waited. Something stirred in the room behind the beaded curtain, and a shape soon emerged. Silhouetted by the obscuring beads, it looked like the shape of an armadillo. The reptilian looking mammal pushed its way through the beads, staring at Judy through thick pointed glasses. She looked old and stubborn in her dress, her lipstick and earrings fell off her features adding to the look of cold disinterest. She took a moment to look up and down the rabbit that stood on the opposite side of the desk, glancing at her bags. 

“You must be Judy Hopps,” She started hoarsely. “How was your trip?”

“Oh, good!” Judy beamed at what she assumed was her landlord. She had read her name on the website, and had extrapolated that she was an armadillo from a number of pieces of information. “It was pretty tiring, but I’m glad to have made it in one piece,” she laughed at the old mammal.

“Hmm,” she offered back. “Let me get your key.” She turned and made her way back into the room beyond the curtain, returning with a pair of keys hanging on a metal ring in her hand. “This way,” she gestured with her hand towards the elevator. 

Judy pulled her luggage along with her, making her way over to the elevator that had opened when the armadillo pressed on a plain button that sat on a panel in the wall. The entered into the old looking mechanism, the lights dim with age. The panel on the side of the wall had two rows of buttons, each with a number engraved next to them. Her landlord clicked the button engraved ‘8’ and straightened out to look over the lobby as the door closed ahead of them. The elevator lurched into motion, pulling sluggishly up into the air. After a few seconds of watching the closed doors, Judy turned to the armadillo. “So,” she began inquisitively. “I had a few questions about the building.”

“Oh?” The armadillo’s sight trailed over in the direction of the bunny, not turning her head. “Like what?”

“Are there any quiet hours? I read something about that online, and I didn’t see anything in the agreement I signed.”

The armadillo glanced at her, this time turning her head. “It’s more of a courtesy thing,” she began. “I don’t think playing music or being rudely loud is really proper any time of day, so just be mindful of how much noise you’re making all the time.”

“Oh,” Judy said, looking around the worn elevator. Her mind trailed around the subject of predators once again. She wondered if it was alright to ask if any of the neighbors were preds. Judy didn’t think it was polite to enquire about the subject, but it was gnawing at her. She had still yet to see a single one in the city. Something she didn’t even think was possible. “Are there- um. I don’t know if it’s rude to ask this?” The armadillo raised an eyebrow, watching Judy’s nose twitch in her perceived rudeness. “Are there any predators living in the building?”

The armadillo chuckled to herself, her dress fluttering around her knees. “No,” she breathed through a hearty laugh. “No, there are no predators in the building. You do not have to worry about such a thing.” Her landlord calmed down a little, taking a moment to regard her new tenant. “You’re not from around here, so I can understand why you’d be worried, but don’t worry,” she went on. “There aren’t any predators on this side of town.”

Judy’s nose twitched at the comment. This time out of confusion. Before she had a chance to respond, the elevator’s speakers played a humming tone, and the doors opened quickly. The old mammals stepped out into the hallway and made her way down the row of doors without hesitation. Judy had to pull her suitcase hard to catch up with the surprisingly fast animal. She made her way down the hallway without waiting for Judy, coming to a stop in front of number ‘809’. Judy’s new apartment. She held the set of keys she had grabbed from downstairs, and unlocked the apartment. She threw the door open with starting her regular greeting, obviously well-rehearsed. “And welcome to the Grand Pangolin Arms. Luxury Apartments with charm.” She brought her hand out and continue as she moved to hand the keys to Judy. “Complimentary delousing once a month.” She retracted her paw just as Judy was about to take the key and pointed at the small rabbit. “Don’t lose your key!” She said with a stern expression, moving once again to hand the set of keys off.

When Judy grabbed them, she turned and started walking down the hall back towards the elevator. “Thank you!” Judy called out to the armored mammal, waving at her even though she was not watching. Judy turned her attention to the apartment room. It was angular and rough. The front door sat on the very right back side of the room, the rest of the apartment stretching out to her left. On the side with the front door, a small kitchen area comprised of some small counter space, a sink, a stove with burners, and a refrigerator lined the wall. Cabinets clung to the plane space above it all. Far to the left in the room a small doorway led into the bathroom was set into the wall. Staying on the same wall, far to the other end of the room from Judy, an undraped bed lay parallel to the side barrier. A green, rusted radiator stuck out of the wall next to it. Two windows facing out into the street and the small park beyond sat on the wall opposite of her. On the edge of the room to Judy’s right, a rickety desk was lodged into the corner, a window sitting right next to the unoccupied wooden chair that sat in front of it.

It was small and unimposing, but Judy was more than satisfied. The greasy green walls and beaten wooden floor was just what she expected. She pivoted her massive bag and made her way into the apartment, closing the door behind her. She left her suitcase by the door and made her way towards the window on the opposite wall. She slid her two bags off of her shoulders and sat them on the desk on her way. Looking out, it was just the view she thought it would be. Busy streets framing a modest park and happy pedestrians sat out before her. The roads made a rectangular shape around the park, the streets being lined with apartment complexes and similar buildings on all sides. The roads fed out into the city in all directions. It was oddly enclosed, Judy thought. Like its own little community, all spread out on the edges of a sedated growth of trees and grass. She turned her attention back to her enormous suitcase that sat patiently at the door. It was almost 7:30PM, and if she wanted to get to bed at an appropriate time, she would have to start unpacking. So she did.

For now, Judy was going to have to use her traveling equipment as a makeshift dresser. At least until she was able to buy more furnishing for her apartment. She had signed a year-long lease, and she wasn’t about to let it look as bare and lifeless for as long as she lived there. She was going to unpack all of her pictures and stuffed animals, however. She had even packed a couple pairs of clean bed sheets. Not exactly the most efficient use of her packing space, and in all likelihood contributed to the bulky nature of the bag, but she was thankful for bringing them. Otherwise she would have slept on a bare bed for her first night. She had brought them in the first place because she did not like the idea of sleeping on bed sheets she had no idea where they had been or how long they had been there. Regardless, she was glad that she had felt so uncomfortable at the idea.

**Author's Note:**

> This end note was written by the original author.  
> Yet another Zootopia story following the original script. Some scenes will be very different from the original story; other scenes will border on plagiarism. Despite the fact that I am ascribing so much importance to what could be considered ‘the plot’, I feel that the heart of any Zootopia story isn’t about the crime or setting, but the character dynamic between Judy and Nick. This sort of puts me in an awkward position of there being ‘nothing new under the sun’ in this regard. Just changing point-of-point dialogues between the characters doesn’t make a story original. A problem I intend to solve with the tone. I hope for this story to be a lot darker than previous imaginings. The idea that predators are walking around with government mandated shock collars doesn’t really scream a peaceful setting with a happy ending to me, and illustrating a world that is rotten to the core usually has a tendency to be almost apathetic to immoral things. That’s just what happens when you try to write a world closest to our own. Hopefully my attempt to take it out of the realm of cartoon violence and into being genuinely disturbing does what I want it to. It could backfire and just turn out looking desperate, I do not know.
> 
> If it seems kind of jumbled and uneven, the first reason is because of how much exposition I tried to jam in this one. I tried to set up a lot of locations, people, and events happening just in this one chapter, so it’s not surprising that I couldn’t make it flow like I wanted it to. In later chapters (if there are any), I’m really going to try to focus the attention to things that are important to the character’s motivations and environmental detail. Writing a roadmap to the setting it only something I plan on doing for the first couple entries. I want people to say “oh, I know what he’s talking about” without me having to spell it out. Unfortunately, that means I have to spend a lot of time in the beginning spelling it out. The second reason is I have a very tertiary grasp on the English language. Even though it’s my first language, I still have a lot of issues in terms of grammar, spelling, structure, vocabulary more expansive than a third grader, writing believable dialogue, and the simple act of forming thoughts into words. If I had an editor, it would probably make the whole thing go a lot faster (as well as more coherent), but I don’t think that’s in the cards. As it stands I have to spend a lot of time going back re-reading and revising large swaths of text. Sixteen thousand words doesn’t sound like much, but when you’re reading it four or five times, it gets up there. And that’s just the first entry.
> 
> This chapter is going to serve as a sort of ‘pilot episode’, as the project is actually very large. Rough estimates of the word count are well over three hundred thousand, and It’ll take me a little under a year to finish. And that’s under the unrealistic expectation of finishing a chapter a week. If there’s not a good amount of interest in it, I really don’t see why I should bother writing it. I’m not even sure there is anyone out there that even wants to read another addition to this concept, and double an addition that goes so far into grim/dark it practically looks like black/sad when it comes out the other end. An absurd amount of brutal violence and an even more absurd amount of vice. I don’t know. If people are interested, let me know. If it sounds like just another garbage fanfiction, feel free to say that too.


End file.
